Let's Begin Again
by Anoriel Thiliedis
Summary: AU. Have you ever lost everything at once? Have you tired to escape it, feeling broken, betrayed, useless? It has certainly happened to Sting Eucliffe. Now, he struggles to move on. By accident, he meets a singer who seems just as shattered as him. Will they help each other recuperate? / Songs from the amazing "Begin Again" / Back to 2-week updates
1. Like a fool

**I don't own Fairy Tail.**

* * *

**As always, I must say something at the beginning. All the songs – and the titles of the chapters as well – are from the soundtrack of "Begin Again". Truth to be said, I haven't watched it yet, but I got the CD with those songs and, God, did it make me think and cry. It's just amazing!**

**So, enjoy this story, which came to life because of a little vagary of mine :)**

* * *

**Let's Begin Again**

**Like a Fool**

* * *

He was lost. So fucking lost, plus he had nowhere to go, nor to stay even for a day. But there was so much more to that. Because he was also hurting. He was depressed. Betrayed. He felt damn misplaced. And he was not even sure which of those was the worst.

Sting Eucliffe was walking around the city in his two-days half elegant shirt with long sleeves and stylish black trousers. The same outfit as on _that_ day. Two days before… He had spent two days, wandering around with no aim, with no desire to actually take care of himself or to get himself together. Two fucking days of thinking and finding his own guilt in every little thing — according to what _she _had yelled to him, it was entirely his fault… Those words were lingering in his mind, hurtfully knocking on the walls of his mind. Two damn days of grieving… And he doubted that anything would change soon. If at all.

The truth was, he'd lost everything. Every little thing he'd believed in, each goal he'd wanted to reach, all of the aspirations leading his life… And there he was, wrapped in the loneliness and sense of nothingness, suffering.

Suddenly, the man stopped. He looked at the view in front of him, a café where people were sitting, chatting, laughing…

He grimaced, another spike piercing his already ripped heart.

_God who doesn't exist, I want to die._

* * *

But back to the beginning.

Sting Eucliffe was a normal man, living in a flat, having almost everything he desired. Anyone'd have called him lucky. First, there was his beautiful fiancée whom he loved like no one else on that planet. Then, there was his job, a dream one; not too tiring, but they paid extremely well. Next, he had time both for himself and his loving girlfriend; he could spare a moment for his hobby, doing what he loved and was happy about. And he had an amazing, truthful friend since forever.

Two days before, there was nothing special on that day — well, maybe except for some conference he had at work. Despite that fact, Sting left his office a little earlier and went to a music shop to look at the pianos, admiring their modern infrastructure and different colors of sounds each of them was making. He adored doing it, playing the piano himself and having some idea about music.

After some time, though, he headed back home, expecting his fiancée, Yukino Aguria, to prepare something for dinner. She had been strangely busy during the last week and had difficulties with that, which resulted in Sting simply eating out. Yeah, well. Maybe something was bothering her. He wanted to know, but waited for the woman to tell him herself.

Finally, Sting arrived at their flat earlier than any other day. He wanted to surprise Yukino and maybe call Rogue to invite him for the evening, after he and his fiancée would spend some time together.

Yet, when the blond man opened the front door with his key and entered the flat, he sensed something was off and his smile froze. It was just too silent… Suddenly, he heard a moan. _A moan? _Sting frowned. It was definitely Yukino's voice, but why would she whimper like that? Then he heard it again. Another one. And then a growl. But, that time, it wasn't girly. Oh, hell no.

He was completely frozen, listening to the sounds she and some other guy were making. The smile crept off his face, making it resemble a stony mask. It was almost obvious _what_ were those noises… But he had to check it, to be sure. He needed to know who was that guy. _Another_ guy… A loud yelp was heard and Sting knew exactly when Yukino could make such a sound. He felt like he has missed a step on a long staircase. With each step he was falling… Lower and lower… Hitting another step with his head every time any of them voiced their pleasure aloud… Falling helplessly… And, at the long last, hitting the ground hard, uncontrollably, wincing, when he opened the bedroom's door.

Yukino was on top of his only and best friend, Rogue, there, in their bed, naked, and obviously in the middle of having passionate sex. Sting was standing there, not able to utter even a monosyllable. His whole world crumbled down, falling on his head. He had failed as an Atlas of his own life, not being able to hold it anymore and it collapsed on him with all of its might.

Eucliffe was still completely paralyzed when the woman turned around and cried. "Sting?!"

He didn't want to see them anymore. Doing _that_ anymore. The man turned around roughly and ran to the living room, trying to fight the tears. There were so many emotions gathering in him, and with every second, there were more. Betrayal, hurt, rage, helplessness, jealously, sadness, even depression, feeling of uselessness, guilt… Everything at once, making him yell. Cry in passion, anger, desire to kill, to howl, to destroy something.

It all'd been ruined. Everything.

Out of the blue, Yukino ran into the room, wrapped in a sheet. Sting shot her a despising glare, not even caring about her teary eyes. A loud crack meant that Rog— _He_'d left, running away and probably saving his skin.

"Sting… I'm sorry that you've found out like this, but—"

"You unfaithful, ungrateful hoe…" He whispered, not trusting his own voice to be louder just yet.

"Understand, you were never here! I was lonely, I was alone, I wanted someone to love, not to miss during all those days!" Aguria shouted in despair. "It's you who—"

"SO IT'S MY FAULT?!" Sting roared, fury taking over him completely. "THAT YOU'RE SCREWING MY BEST FRIEND UNDER MY FUCKING NOSE, YOU WHORE?!"

"I never meant to hurt you. I just—"

"Spare me this crap." Eucliffe barked. "How long?"

"… Three months."

"Fine. Get out."

"W-what…?"

"Get the fuck out of my flat! My life!"

"S-Sting, calm down, it was just a—"

"GO AWAY FROM ME!" He yelled, his eyes narrowed. His heart was in pain, the worst one he'd ever felt so far. "I'll send your things tomorrow morning. If you don't leave now, you'll have to gather them yourself… From the street down there."

"But… But!" Yukino cried, her small body shaking with spasms of hysterics.

"Leave. Screwed woman. Just leave."

"CURSE YOU!" The white head said dramatically, then shouted. "Curse you and your fucking ideal world, where I'm happy with what I had! You're the one to blame, you yourself, Eucliffe." She angrily caught her palm and, having taken off the engagement ring, threw it into her former boyfriend. "Choke on this!"

Sting didn't say anything, but he approached a garbage box and threw the ring away. That was just how he cared. He stopped with… With whatever it had been. Aguria winced at that.

"Out."

Yukino shot him a last look, then ran off to dress up. Sting fell on an armchair, feeling worse than shit itself. _I… I have nothing. Now, I have nothing at all._ The man looked around the flat that he had used to be proud of… But not anymore. In every square meter he saw a piece of Yukino… Of _her_… And he hated it. He hated every wall, painted in the color which they'd chosen together. Every piece of furniture, every carpet… It was screaming _her. _He realized he couldn't stay there anymore. _I need to call my agent and sell it as soon as possible._

A loud slam of the door proved that the woman left him as well.

Now, it was only him and the pain.

* * *

It was almost a week since he'd been left by his supposedly closest people. Nothing was better, but neither was it worse. What's more, Sting'd finally made something presentable out of himself — he showered, combed his hair, and changed the clothes.

Right after the incident, he'd sent away all of _her_ belongings and gathered what he wanted to spare from selling. Good thing that he had much money saved — just enough for the new start… Although he didn't have any doubt that it was gonna be hard and would take much time.

Unfortunately, his former fiancée had other plans and wanted to contact him badly. Therefore, Sting moved out and found a niche hotel where _she_ wouldn't find him all that easily. Or so he hoped.

His last day consisted of laying in his hotel room, doing nothing but thinking and suffering in silence. Wanting to be left alone, he even asked the cleaning lady out, being rather rude.

Well. If she knew, she surely wouldn't blame him…

His mobile phone was switched off; he wanted no calls or messages. And he knew he would get drowned in all of those if he turned the device on. But he had no need for that at the moment.

Sting rolled on the second side, his eyes staring ahead as if he saw nothing. Because he didn't. There were no emotions in there. The usual glint of happiness, good humor, sarcasm, arrogance, or any other feeling just wasn't there. Emptiness — that was all.

Suddenly, a loud thumping on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He frowned. _What in hell?_

"Mr. Eucliffe? There's a letter to you. May you open the door so I could give it to you?"

He stood up, slowly coming closer. "Who is it from?"

"Um, just a second… Oh, yes. Mrs. Yukino Aguria…"

"Send it away." Sting almost yelled in anger. "All of them. If anything like this would come again, burn it."

"B-but… Sir, there's also a phone call from the same woman…" The hotel's service sounded completely taken aback by his rage. "And she announced that she'll come tomorrow…"

"Fuck you all!" That time, he spat, losing control. "I thought you had any rules of privacy, but guess I was wrong. I'm leaving today."

"S-s-sir?!"

"Leave."

Sting sighed to calm himself down. He heard when the service woman was running away, scared. He didn't blame her, though; he was a little, um, harsh, after all.

The only thing he knew was that he couldn't stay there any longer. If _she_ was already aware of his location, he had to disappear again. And he had an idea how to do it.

* * *

Five hours later, Eucliffe arrived at another city. It was already dark, the chilly air hitting his cheeks and hands. He went to his new hotel straight ahead, leaving everything for later.

At the reception, he instructed an amazed woman not to give his surname to anyone and to not reveal his presence to whoever would ask for that. Hesitantly, but also ate up by curiosity, she promised him that and passed the room key. Sting nodded and disappeared in an elevator.

Having left his things there, he went out and ate in a fancy restaurant, feeling like he needed to do something good for himself. Emotions were still stirring inside of him… And still weren't the nicest.

Then, having some time on his hands, he decided to take a walk. The city was quite charming, but he wasn't able to let the emotion of awe go through the walls built of misery. _She_ and _he_ were the goddamn reason, of course. It still was fresh and raw. How could it not…

Suddenly, he stopped in front of a cafeteria and a bar, Café de Bleu. There was a stage seen through the window, slightly hovering over the customers. Sting grimaced. Nearly all of them were smiling, giggling, talking cheerfully, and so on… He was damn fed up with all of those positive emotions. He felt like unhappiness itself.

Preparing to leave, he saw a poster. It mentioned having a new singer and inviting everyone to come and listen to her.

**!The only occasion to hear an amazing singer!**

**Lucy Heartfilia**

**in**

**Café de Bleu**

**Singing her new exceptional masterpieces!**

**Each day during the next several days ****—**** one song finishing other performances.**

**Free entrance.**

Sting spat. He had never heard of any Lucy Heartfilia… Was she some new pop star, or something? Not that he cared too much; he'd rather not have stayed, but before he had time to move, one of the waitresses spotted him and waved friendly.

"Hi there! Want a table?" She asked.

"No, actually…"

"The last free one without reservation! And the song of today begins in ten!" She grinned and already led him to a fourth table from the scene, situated slightly to its left. "Here!"

"Um, thanks…" Sting murmured and unwillingly sat down.

"Would you like something to drink?" The waitress was not easily gone, seemingly completely unaffected by his gloomy humor.

"A mojito, please." He agreed just to be finally left alone and recuperate his peace.

"Right away, sir!"

At last, she was gone. The man mused with a frown, gazing around the café. There were many different people, from youth to mid-aged ones. All of them excited about something, definitely positively. _Pain in the ass…_ Not in the mood to fight with anyone accusing him of staring, his sight moved around him. To his right, there was a brunet, sitting like on pins. He was literally sweating, from time to time glancing at the stage with a mixture of hope and terrify. Sting kept his unemotional face and glanced ahead of him; two elegant people, apparently a marriage, were talking silently, caressing each others' hands. _Shitty moment, really._ Finally, on his right, two young ladies were chatting, openly describing their life. _Screw it, I'm heading out_.

But the waitress, seeming to have a sixth sense or some telekinetic abilities, appeared in front of him with the drink and a smile. "Enjoy."

Sting nodded, turning grumpy. His plan was interrupted again.

Suddenly, the place was lightened down and soon, the stage was the only source of it left. A woman with white hair came out, earning a small applause. She shushed the audience and smiled sweetly.

"Good evening again! Now that we're done with the young talents, we can begin with the evenings with our great Lucy Heartfilia! Lucy, come to me." She said and reached out her hand in the direction of a curtain.

A young woman, somewhere around his age, crept up beside the white-haired one. Blond hair, big brown eyes, nice figure. She was looking shy and rather hesitant, but bowed down gracefully and even waved to some people in a friendly manner. She bobbed her head on the announcer and moved to the piano standing in the middle of the podium. Lucy sat down and gazed around the tables. Sting felt her sight sliding on him and landing to his left — on the brunet, who was visibly ecstatic. If it wasn't for his perceptive observing abilities, Sting wouldn't have noticed a heavy shadow appearing on her face — but only for a second. Then she smiled and played a few notes of introduction. A man from the back of the podium played the guitar. Sounded nice, but the man had his own theory. _Great, she probably will sing about shit like love and happiness and living happily ever after. What did I ever do to anyone to be here?_

Sting wasn't prepared to what happened next. Lucy took a breath and sang with a clear, deep voice filled with emotions and thrilling frankness, causing goosebumps on his whole being.

_We take a chance from time to time_

_And put our necks up on a line_

_And you have broken every promise that we made_

_And I have loved you anyway_

It was hard to explain what was happening to him. Sure, he liked the performance from the musical point of view, but that wasn't it. Sting experienced both uneasiness and relief at the same time; she was singing about something he knew so well. Something he was feeling right now. He was damn sure of it. Then, Lucy lifted her head and gazed somewhere over him. He inhaled deeply. Her eyes were still, seeing nothing and showing nothing. _Just like mine…_

_Took a fine time to leave me_

_Hanging out at drive_

_Understand now I'm grieving _

_So don't you waste my time_

There, he heard her voice crack a little. Lucy sounded like she was about to cry. Not knowingly, Sting also gulped, his eyes glued to her form. Shit. How was she doing that, singing about emotions so… Honestly?

_Cause you have taken all the wind out of my sails_

_And I have loved you just the same_

His wounded heart, not even cicatrized yet, but sloppily sewed in a thread of different color, was opened again. All of his pain was visible right on his face now. And, truthfully, he didn't even care anymore.

_We finally find this, then you're gone_

_Then chasing rainbows all alone_

_And you have cursed me when there was no one left to blame_

_And I have loved you just the same_

His mojito was long forgotten. For him, there were only her and the words she was singing. Those words which were piercing him, scarring, but also were kind of a catharsis of the moment. God, did he want to cry.

There was a longer pause, Lucy turned to the side, playing the piano and making some improvisations. Sting inspected her face to see if she really meant it. If she really understood. He realized that her features were reflecting his insides. _Fuck, she does know what she sings about._ At last, the music slowed down and the woman lowered her head so that her bangs covered the upper part of her face. Shaking, she finished:

_And you have broken every single fucking rule_

_And I have loved you like a fool_

Out of nowhere, the music ended. Eucliffe heard a sob covered by the swear word, then understood the intention in those recited last words — she broke down. But she did it. She finished the song, which was a part of her. And which needed much bravery and courage to be shown in the open.

The lights were turned on abruptly and the audience erupted into clapping and whistling. Lucy Heartfilia stood up, still covered under her hair, and faked a smile. Bowing down, the blond hair moved and Sting saw that her eyes were not smiling along with the lips. They resembled his own; not shiny, hurt, empty.

The blond male was clapping with others when he came out of the shock. Eventually, all of the people gathered under the stage ceased making the applause and the chatting resounded with double force. He was pondering while finishing his drink, not sure about how he felt.

"Was it worth it?" Sting raised his sight only to spot the waitress beside him, taking his empty glass with a smile. "The performance?"

"Yeah."

"Good, then. Lucy is really good in singing emotions… In fact, she's great in anything, especially fixing people." The girl grinned. "Huh, she fixed me!"

"Fixed…" He mumbled, turning his sight at where the blond singer'd been standing a moment ago. Actually, she looked like she needed to be fixed that time… Suddenly, he snapped out of it and furrowed his brows. "Sorry. Can I pay?"

"Cash or card?"

"Cash."

Thus, Eucliffe paid for his mojito and headed out into the cold of the exterior world. He was thinking about what just had happened and what it meant for _him_. Because, he was aware of that, it _did_.

When he reached his hotel, he stopped in the entrance, half-stepping in. Sting wanted to punch himself. He groaned. _Shit. I get it._

The man hurried back to the Café de Bleu and encountered the same waitress, who had been serving him. He was short in breath due to running, but it didn't really bother her.

"Yes?" She asked kindly.

"I-I want to… Reserve… The same table… For the rest of her… Performances." He huffed out, glancing over the place in search for the magically singing Heartfilia.

"Ha! I knew that. I mean, um, sure. Name?"

"Sting Eucliffe."

* * *

**Did you like it?**


	2. A step you can't take back

**Let's Begin Again**

**A step you can't take back**

* * *

The next day, Sting woke up after a bad night. Another one. He was exhausted, tired of the constant feeling of helplessness. Laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, he was cursing his own situation, his life, his decisions… Then, a conclusion formed within his head.

He was a fool.

Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. _And I have loved you like a fool_…

He sat up, frowning. Eucliffe must have admitted that the performance he'd seen the night before had left him wondering. That woman, Lucy Heartfilia, had reached something within him. She was absolutely infallible in her interpretation of the lyrics —again, her own— and in letting it out. He knew that, most probably, no one from the audience'd really known what was the purpose and true topic of her singing… After all, if it was not for _her _and _him_, he wouldn't have known it himself… Sting shook his head. Yeah, that was not something to be happy about.

Anyway, the lyrics. And his current… Situation. Now that he thought about it, his actions could be summed up in one word: a runaway. He literally ran away from the past, although it had followed him even there, to the other town.

Unexpectedly, an image of _her_ on top of _him_ invaded his mind, crushing his safety walls and escaping from that dark side of his mentality. Sting covered his eyes, seeing the darkest shade of black and feeling terrible pain. He scowled. That wasn't fair. He shouldn't be seeing things like that anymore, he had closed them in the deepest, firmest box…

When the hurting sensation had passed a bit, the blond man exhaled heavily and threw the sheet away, getting himself on his legs. He decided it was enough of the sulking and he should take a shower before doing anything else. After all, he had to figure something out. And by something, he understood everything.

"Damn right. I'm beginning a new life…" He muttered, yawning. "Sort of…"

Yet, when the man entered the bathroom, his thoughts flew back to Lucy Heartfilia and her song. Having run the water on himself, Sting mused. Suddenly, he desired to know the story, which had caused the girl to write such a tragic piece… In any case, he was up to date with those feelings.

She had a clue about it. Maybe she could advise him, or something? At least, how to cope with his life.

* * *

"Hello again!" The familiar waitress smiled kindly at him, earning a quick nod. "You're a little early, eh? I get it, I really do! You liked the song, didn't you?"

_Way too many freaking questions…_ He thought, ignoring them and throwing the girl an emotionless glance. Just to show her that he was not interested in talking to her about anything. He just wanted to sit down and have a goddamn drink, then listen to the Heartfilia chick, and see if the impression was only a onetime thing, or she actually could move him another time.

"You see, if you want to meet Lucy, I'll just tell her…" Suddenly, the waitress leaned ahead and whispered, covering her mouth. He stiffened.

"I've never said anything about that." Sting answered coldly, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, come on. No need to get offended, you know. By the way, I'm Sherry."

The girl stretched her hand out to him and looked at the man expectedly. _There must be something wrong with her. _He eyed her suspiciously, then, so very slowly, extended his own arm and shook it.

"… Sting."

"Not a very talkative fellow, are you?" She joked and led the way to the same table where he had been seated a day before. "Anyway, if you need anything, call me by my name. It's easier and I'll know right away that it's you. So, can I get you anything now?"

"Maybe cola with whiskey." Eucliffe replied indifferently. He didn't really listen to her blabbing, but guessed that she wouldn't ask him about anything else right then.

"Sure thing." Sherry flashed her teeth in a smile and walked away, not one bit angered or annoyed by his grunt. _Yeah. Definitely, there's something very wrong with her._

Left alone again, Sting could take a look around. He spotted several people that he had noticed last night; yet, the ecstatic brunet was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged it off and, gazing to the right, he caught a glimpse of… Himself. Sting blinked a few times, startled. _What the hell…_ Apparently, there was a mirror, in which his reflection was returning the detached stare he was giving it. He grimaced. He looked like shit; with messy hair, furrowed brows, bags under his eyes, and hunched figure… He should have taken care of his hair, not letting them dry on their own. Moreover, he'd seen before that _she _was getting hot pack from the green tea bags to reduce the shadows under eyes; maybe he should have tried that, too? At last, Eucliffe moved impatiently and stretched his back; at least that fucking fragment of him'd be kept in order.

Out of nowhere, Sherry reappeared with a drink and a small bowl of peanuts. "Sorry for the wait, we're totally busy out there. Here you are and enjoy."

"Thanks." Sting repeated, accepting the snack without any comments.

"I'll talk to you later!" The waitress winked and disappeared.

The blonde sighed with relief. She was nice — or at least she was trying to be —, but the constant waffling and laughing was making him irritated and depressed at the same time. Damn, it was obvious he wasn't all right and she just had to continue with her bubbly behavior. What's more, she was making attempts to actually _guess_ what was wrong with him. Seriously. Who did that?

Sting sipped the whisky with cola, falling back into his pondering.

After half an hour, Lucy Heartfilia appeared on the stage. As the day before, she wandered with her sight around the place, yet, that time, there was no sign of the shadow Sting had seen before. His intuition directed his mind on the brunet, sensing a mysterious bond between those two.

The woman's eyes lingered on him for a second longer than on other guests. Did she recognize him? It might be. Lucy made a normal expression and touched the piano. Her hands danced smoothly on the keyboard, making a short opening. At the same time, Sting observed her with double attention, not wanting to overlook any possible detail, which could be, of course, the key to his search.

_So you find yourself at this subway_

_With your world in the bag by your side_

Wait a second. Hadn't he come to that town with one bag, packed with all of his belongings? Sting frowned. He had kept only some things, the rest was being sold by Orga, his friend in the selling company. He had literally threw everything away in an attempt to get away from his foregoing life. The man squinted his eyes slightly; she was singing it with frankness… But during speaking those words, her voice didn't tremble. Not that time.

_And all at once it seemed like a good way_

_You realized it's the end of the line_

_For what it's worth_

Was she trying to say that it was worthless? That it didn't matter? That it wouldn't help him? Eucliffe held back a snort. He was an idiot; she wasn't singing about him, for goodness' sake. He had to cease relating every word to himself.

_Here comes the train upon the track_

_And there goes the pain, it cuts to black_

_Are you ready for the last act_

_To take a step you can't take back_

There, Lucy hung her voice, but her lips smiled — of course, without any hint of happiness. He pondered. The chorus definitely _was_ about him. The terrifying ache he'd felt that morning —and not for the first time— was a perfect proof.

And that "step"… No, he needed a moment to think about it.

_Take in all the punches you could take_

_Took 'em all right on the chest_

Hadn't _she_ behaved weirdly for a while? For those three months, even though he hadn't really complained about it? Hadn't he wondered what was going on between them for some time? It hadn't always been sunny and perfect.

Heartfilia suddenly made an angry expression and hit the keyboard with twice as much strength. The blonde snapped out of his musing and inspected her. She seemed livid.

_Now the countless back is breaking_

_Again_

_Again… For what it's worth_

Then, the chorus came with a hard note and stronger voice.

_Here comes the train upon the track_

_There goes the pain, it cuts to black_

_Are you ready for the last act_

_To take a step you can't take back_

Out of the blue, he knew it. He understood. The truth. Sting realized it when she sang about being ready. _Ready, ready…_ That word was bumping in his mind, turning his realization into anger at himself.

The truth was, he wasn't ready. He hadn't been ready to say those things to _her_, to let go of _her,_ to actually forget. He'd made that step that he couldn't take back without realizing that it was damn too early for that. That he wasn't emotionally and psychically prepared to the fucking consequences. And that was the reason to why he was grieving so much… Right?

Eucliffe stopped with the show and bit his lip. Hurt was painted all over his face. Suddenly, Lucy's head shot up and she gazed right at him. Though he didn't care anymore if she saw it or not.

_Did she love you?_

_Did she take you down?_

_Was she on her knees _

_when she kissed your crown?_

_Tell me what you found?_

Sting felt embattled. He had an urge to escape, to get away from the table, from the café, from the singer, her lyrics, the reality… He'd budged when he heard the first line of the bridge, the second one made his facial muscles tense up and grit his teeth. _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ He needed to escape. Then, he held back a bitter laugh when he imagined _her_, succumbing to him and give him right to be the one who rules. _She_'d never, ever have done that.

What did he find? Sting knew the answer all too well. Too damn well.

_Here comes the rain_

_So hold your hat_

_And don't pray to God_

_Cause he won't talk back_

"I… know…" Regardless of himself, he mouthed to Heartfilia. Next, realizing what he'd done, he slid his hand down his face and stood up. Sting spotted a toilets' sign and hurried that way. Farther from those words. He needed to breathe; Lucy Heartfilia had blocked any possibility of airflow with her singing. Of course, he was conscious of that she never meant to, but he couldn't help it anymore. No, no, no, and no.

_Are you ready for the last act_

_To take a step you can't take back_

_Back, back…_

_You can't take back_

_Back, back…_

Sting couldn't know that the singer was following him with her sight, barely focusing on her song. She'd seen him during "Like a fool" performance, but hadn't paid too much attention to him. However, now that he fled, Lucy understood that she should have watched him better.

_So you find yourself at this subway_

_In a world in a bag by your side…_

There, the song ended. People clapped, someone yelled "Bravo!" and cheered. The man found his asylum in the bathroom, standing in front of a mirror and panting. He was both scared and exasperated at himself. Why'd he done that? He acted like a mental person… _Shit._

After the applause, Sting lifted himself and stood up straightly. Having taken a long breath, he left the toilet. The blonde gazed around, not overly interested in finding anyone, then moved ahead. Yet, when he considered whether to go to the hotel or linger there for several drinks, his sixth sense told him to stay and have a little fun. Well, of course, being in the emotional crack, he couldn't exactly _have fun_; however, the term sounded way better than a simple: drown his sadness at the bottom of a glass.

The man ran his hand through his hair and turned around, spotting Sherry. He approached her with hands in his pockets, then asked a little grumpily:

"Where's the bar?"

"Oh, then you're staying?" She smiled, completely not paying attention to his grouching. "Fantastic! Go to the stairs and instead of climbing them, get down. You'll handle it from there."

"Thanks."

Sting got to the pub-part of the café without difficulties. He sat at the bar, looking like one and a half the misery. When a minute had passed, a barman stood in front of him with a small smile.

"Something for you?"

"Coke with whisky."

"Okay."

When the guy was preparing his drink, Sting watched him and his companion —the white-haired woman who'd been announcing yesterday's performance— and their smooth moves with all of the bottles, glasses, and ingredients.

Not knowingly, he fell deep into thought. Only when the barman passed his drink with a smooth slide on the desk did Sting wake up from the musing.

"Here you are, dream boy." He joked, earning a glare.

"No need for any nickname, piggy eyes." He retorted before he could bite his tongue.

The barman stared at him for a moment, then extended his hand. "I'm Elfman."

Sting was taken aback. _Seriously, what the fuck's wrong with those people?_ Nevertheless, he reached out and took it. "Um… Sting."

"You're new here, right?"

"Definitely."

"Yeah, I can see that." Elfman laughed and hit his arm friendly — or so he thought, because Sting shifted to the side under its strength and pressure. "So, what do you do?"

"Right now: nothing, I quit my job and my life, actually." The blonde muttered, returning to normal position.

"Oh, really? Why's that?"

"I… had a life difficulty and…" He sighed and shrugged. When he realized he'd lost his cold attitude, Eucliffe frowned again.

"Don't worry, man, you'll move on! Every man does!" The barman exclaimed loudly.

"Shh, don't yell about it!"

"Sorry, sorry. But you're not the first one with problems here." Elfman grinned. "People get here and, surprisingly, they're all with some troubles. Mostly, they stop coming when their lives return to normality."

"Wha-what _is_ this place?" Sting asked, cocking one brow. At the same time, he made a mental note to never reveal anything to that man; he seemed to waffle about it with everyone.

"A normal pub, yet many people who've got it hard on them happen to come around. Like there's something that brings them here, I dunno." Elfman scratched his chin.

"Elfman, where are you?" The barmaid yelled at him with a smile. "I'm trying to clone, but haven't mastered it yet."

"I'm coming, Mira." The called one answered and bobbed his head at Sting. "Nice meeting you, now, excuse me for a while."

"No prob."

Eucliffe observed how the barman duo was working together; they seemed to be siblings, both with white hair and, judging by the way they spoke to each other… He sighed. He had had a brother, but Laxus'd disappeared when he was little. He'd never heard from the other Eucliffe, he wasn't even sure that his sibling actually still had the same surname as him…

He remembered that _she_'d been encouraging him to find Laxus, to contact him, to make an effort to know him, and, finally, to show that he cared. Sure he did. However, nothing'd been that easy.

Sting drank his drink and ordered another when Elfman had a free moment. Then another. And another. And one more. Okay, two… Three… Five…

* * *

Finally, Sting left Café de Bleu. He had drunk a few too many drinks, so his steps were not as stable as always. All in all, he hadn't opened up to anyone, neither Elfman nor Sherry —not that he'd planned to—, but deep inside, he was glad that he had someone to talk to; even though they were the ones to blabber and speak for most of the time spent together. Certainly, he was miserable, undoubtedly hurt and scarred, indisputably lost. Still, he hadn't really been talking with anyone for the last week — or even more, he didn't really count.

He was just a guy… Only a human. Every human being needs contact with others… Right?

Thus, Sting felt absolutely excused for feeling the small pleasure of making new acquaintances. He fucking deserved it. He earned the goddamn justified moment of relief from the pain and sorrow.

Abruptly, he stopped in the middle of walking. The man blinked several times, staring ahead. _No…_ No way. _She_ didn't know where he was. He was free from her possible coverage there. Invigorated, Sting made five steps and stopped again. Standing still, he observed the familiar figure with growing nervousness and hatred. When _her_ face became recognizable, rage and strong disgust joined those emotions. _Shit. How the hell did this cunt find me?!_

"Sting!" _She_ cried from a small distance and ran to him, intending to hug the man. Yet, he moved away, trembling in anger. _She_ made an undecided move, then smiled and composed herself. "Here you are, I'm looking for you all over the—"

"Why are you here?" Sting asked in a low tone, not even looking at _her_, forming fists from his palms and easing them up. _How dare she!_

"I… I wanted to—"

"Apologize? Fuck off. No need. I don't want to know you." He hissed and tried to step by _her_, but stumbled and had to catch his balance.

"… You've been drinking." That wasn't a question. It enraged him even more.

"So? What does it have to do with you? It shouldn't interest you."

"Sting, it does. Everything you do interests me…" _She _added some tenderness to her voice. The man shook his head vigorously, having hard time to hold back the yelling. He felt like a kettle put on the gas, sensing the boiling water coming and the upcoming need to whistle — or shout. Suddenly, _she_ reached out for him, but Sting avoided making any kind of contact with _her_. "I came for you…"

"Bullshit. Get back to where you belong."

"I came for you and—"

"I don't need you anymore!" Finally, he lost it. "Three fucking moths you've been doing my best friend while being engaged to me! Screw the fact you're a two timer, you have a nerve to actually try following and talking to me?! You should have simply had a little honor, a little bit of instinct to stay away!"

"I don't want to stay away from you!" _She _cried, tears started to stream down her face. "I can't do that, I simply can't! Look, I even regained the ring… Look, Sting… Stingy…"

Finally, the blonde turned his sight at her. Nonetheless, it was pure of hatred, betrayal, wrath, and repugnance. What'd he thought about, thinking that he still wasn't ready. Now he knew it — he damn was.

"Listen, you bitch. I never, ever want to see you again. You can do whatever you want to with that shitty ring, it means nothing to me since there's no connection anymore. Now, get back to your so-eager-to-screw Rogue and get on with what you have. Don't you call me. Don't even try finding me. And never fucking call me by my pet name."

"But, Sting, we can't be finished like that!" _She _exclaimed, shocked. "I don't recognize you…"

"What?" Sting laughed one of the most terrible laughs ever heard on Earth. "You killed me, you yourself. You ripped my heart away and shattered it in my very eyes. I gave you everything I had — and you threw it to the garbage bean."

"No! I-I have loved you—"

"You never loved me. You loved the stability, the comfortable life, and the money." The man gritted his teeth. "I've said what I had to. Leave and never come back."

_She_ was standing there, in front of him, gaping at him with disbelief and fright in her eyes. Sting was returning the gaze. However, it didn't change from all those passionate emotions and still his eyes were telling it all. Finally, _she _spoke up with a trembling voice.

"If I leave… If I do now… You'll never see me again. I know you've loved me. Is that what you want? Is that how you treasure love?"

At that moment, Eucliffe wanted to simply throw himself at _her_ and strangle the woman. _She_ dared speak like that to him?! After all _she_ had done?! He settled for hitting her; Sting raised his hand, readying it to slap her… But, eventually, put it down, shivering from fury.

"You're a monster." He whispered. "You're a beast. I have no idea what I loved in you. You're completely rotten."

"S-Sting…?"

"Leave. Before I do something I'll regret… or not. Don't cross the line, don't test my patience." He said, loudly, yet calmly. "Remember, don't look for me anymore."

"You've made your choice." Her voice was cold as ice, different to what she had used a minute ago. "Farewell."

Not waiting for the reply, _she_ turned around and walked away quickly, but not too quickly to miss him shouting behind her:

"That's a step I can't take back. My choice. Finally, a good one."

* * *

The blond man, busy with arguing, was oblivious to that there was a person who had actually heard the whole thing.

Lucy Heartfilia was standing behind the wall of the nearest building, hidden. She'd never intended to eavesdrop, but she'd been walking home and, out of the blue, the guy from the café and a woman he'd met started to yell on the street. Since there were no other people due to the late hour, Lucy'd hidden in the nearest place possible and, unwillingly, listened to the whole thing.

She'd have to be made from stone not to feel sympathy for the man. She saw his sorrow when he was speaking to the white-haired woman, his determinacy and bravery. By accident, she'd learned the whole —or most of it— story. What's more, Lucy wanted to cry. Cry for him, for his pain, for herself, for her hurting heart, for everything. Everything seemed to be kind of related, similar, but definitely different.

In conclusion, she'd heard him warn her for the last time. The woman spat on him and Lucy heard a fast clicking of heels. Heartfilia wanted to check the surroundings, whether she could go or she had to wait some more, and she spotted the blond man, standing with tears on his face. He was looking after the leaving woman, certainly completely shattered, then he exclaimed something that had her overwhelmed.

"That's a step I can't take back."

_Oh, my goodness. He listened to it… To me… And he turned the words into action… _In deep shock, Lucy gapped at the man, apparently called Sting, with her mouth agape and something stirring within her.

* * *

**And? What do you think? I really'd like to hear your opinions on this :)**


	3. Lost Stars

**I don't own Fairy Tail nor Begin Again songs.**

* * *

**Thank you, guys, for all the follows, favorites, reviews, and PMs. You really help me a lot with motivation to write, not to mention that every form of feedback is extremely helpful in the process of making this very story.**

**As always, a word of commentary.**

**To start off, I've changed the time between Yukino's betrayal and Sting's appearance at the café. It's all in the first chapter.**

**Actually, I offer you here my own interpretation of the songs, therefore, you can have other ideas and understanding. I'm glad you accept mine, though :D**

**Finally, the song I'm using in this chapter was supposed to be later. However, I changed my mind. It'll definitely appear again later on, but I also need it here. Oh, and this version is of Keira Knightley, still, my fav is Adam Levine's :) You can check it out, too.**

**Now, please, enjoy.**

* * *

**Let's Begin Again**

**Lost Stars**

* * *

Lucy Heartfilia was sitting in her flat, in a huge mess around herself. Pieces of paper and loose sheets were covering every inch of the floor; some of them were creased. She was going through every each of those, searching for very concrete lyrics she'd once written and had been keeping them all forgotten at the bottom of a drawer.

"I'm almost sure it was somewhere here…" The blonde was mumbling, throwing away another sheet and grabbing the next one.

Since the day —or rather night— before, Lucy had been thinking. The reason was rather obvious, taking into consideration having been a witness of a heated argument. That quarrel'd led the artist to three notions.

First of all, to puzzle about that blond guy, who had been at Café de Bleu. She couldn't help but feel bad for him; from what she'd heard, it was not a pleasant situation he was in… So much anger, so much pain'd been visible on his handsome face, twisting the smooth features and scaring others away. What's more, she knew all too well about those sensations… _Exactly. That suffering, though it's impossible that we're the same, yet… _In fact, Lucy believed it was not a coincidence he'd appeared there, right in front of her, at that time. It seemed like he —Sting, was it?— was helplessly trapped in the same kind of situation as her. Or a similar one. Lucy rolled her eyes. Oh, okay. Probably quite different, but with similar consequences and with just as much grieve. Yes, she had seen it in his eyes and on his face the evening before. He hadn't hidden it from her. Damn, he'd been looking her right in the eye, reacting to her words. It was NOT a fluke. It couldn't be. Call her a fool, but Lucy believed in fate. It wasn't happening by mistake… Not in the situation when that Sting guy'd reminded her of her own misery…

And that was precisely the second thing. Heartfilia was wondering about her own harm. She'd been scarred badly by the one she'd loved, and despite the fact that it had been quite a while ago, she still couldn't get over it. On the other hand, who would? One'd have to had a heart of stone to actually forget and live normally — either that, or one had never really loved the other. Lucy sighed heavily and her eyes clouded with sadness. Her whole life seemed like a one, big, fat mistake. Apparently, she was bound to make bad decisions. Loving and putting faith in poorly chosen people to begin with.

Finally, the witnessed argument caused her to ponder over any possible meaning behind the current circumstances. Lucy couldn't remember when she'd last hoped for anything, especially a potential change for better. Nor did she reckon when she'd smiled truthfully… Or felt full-heartedly _good_.

Now, even though she had no idea why, her whole being dared to feel a little optimistic. Even quite fine. Thus, having that all on her mind, Heartfilia shook her head and went on with the seeking. It must've meant something. It just… did.

* * *

Having the last night's encounter with _her_ on his overly preoccupied mind, Sting Eucliffe had been laying in the hotel's room for the whole next day: thinking, crying, and hurting. Every time he'd thought about the woman who'd found him even in another city —actually, how the bloody hell HAD she?!—, his insides were curling into a Chinese 's'***** and he wanted to throw up. The image of her face was haunting him, appearing in front of his either opened or closed eyes. Well, not that he'd found peace being away from the problem itself, but his stirred and stormy insides had reached some sort of steadiness. That wrong and toxic kind, but he considered himself lucky that it'd happened at all.

Sting couldn't help but analyze everything that had happened in the night. The abrupt coming across _her_'d cleared up a few of his doubts — still, only a smaller part of those. Unfortunately, they also weren't a consolation of any kind.

Actually, he'd understood that _she_ had never loved him. What he'd told _her_ at the end of their (euphemistically called) conversation was the truth, even though it was tough to accept. _She_ had made a fool out of him, using him to have an illusion of solidity and safety. And Sting'd been dumb enough to let her pull wool over his eyes. Had he been blind? Or just had loved the woman that treated him as a stepping stone, a trampoline to a better life?

And if _she_'d never loved him, then his all life was a lie. A misapprehension, a fucking fantasy he'd wanted to believe in so badly. Well, Eucliffe could be proud of himself; he'd thrown away everything he had had just to get rid of that delusion. Of course, not forgetting that it was his idiocy which'd led him to that situation in the first place.

Sting started to question his rationale to actually ever believe those two. Why had he? His so-called best friend and his fiancée'd broken every rule and possible morale that he doubted his own sanity. He should have never trusted those… Those damn people. Bad people. Unfaithful bastards.

The man sighed and, with his thumbs, removed small trickles after tears from his face. _Shit. Am I able to bear all this pain? Ugh. I hate it. I hate them. _Sting thought angrily. In fact, he hated _them_, his own life, himself for the lack of objectiveness, the world for existing, plus whatever god that, apparently, didn't even subsist and fucking help him somehow in that inhuman grieving. _God…? _Oh, wait. What was that in that song? _Don't pray to God, cause he won't talk back_. Yeah. He knew about it. And so he'd voiced in the café.

Suddenly, disappointment in himself invaded his whole being, spreading within him like poison. What'd exactly made him mouth it to the singer? He'd been so caught up in the moment that his emotions acted on their own and, unconsciously, he had done that. Whatever the blond singer could have thought, it certainly wasn't fine. Not by him.

"Nothing's fine…" Sting mumbled huskily in the air, speaking up for the first time since the day before.

Next, his musing moved on to the present. So, what now? He'd quit his job almost a month before and money had it that it ended all too soon. He needed work – to live, to eat, and, finally, to do something else than think over and over again about his hopelessness. Besides, how long could he live in that hotel? A flat would be nice. He had to take a grip of himself, for goodness' sake!

Yet, after making that decision, his traitorous mind returned to the previous topic.

Now that he thought about it, what'd _she_ wanted from him? After all, Sting had told _her_ straightly to leave him alone right after nailing _them_ in his flat. Whatever had happened that, out of blue and again, he was needed? Why? For the first time since two weeks, Sting felt slightly interested. Certainly, he could only speculate, since he'd made _her_ go away before even getting to any conclusion. Not that he regretted it, not at all! Still, had anything changed that dramatically that he'd become somebody… Something more than, like formerly, just an object to obtain more?

"This sucks." Eucliffe told himself.

Moreover, he'd listened to that goddamn song of Heartfilia and acted on it, even quoting it at the very end. He knew it was wise of him to have done that, to banish _her_ from his messed up life — duh, rather its fundaments since it'd crumbled down right on his head and heart;. However, it didn't exactly mean he was able to move on. Indeed, Sting was ready to break free from her poisonous grip and from all the lies she'd been feeding him with. He was prepared to shed all the memories connected to _her_… Yeah. To throw away all the recollections, both unpleasant and lovely ones.

Abruptly, he remembered that _she_'d tried to touch him. Sting shivered, raising his hand and massaging his own shoulder, musing over what he was sensing. Disgust. Melancholy. Gloom. Anger. Maybe even depression. The man sighed in annoyance.

And, finally. That whole Lucy. She must have been mad to truly believe in the existence of hope. A complete fantasy, an illusion, a freaking misunderstanding! The one and only that, indeed, had destroyed his idyllic life.

* * *

As every evening, Sherry was waiting for Sting at the entrance, holding an empty tray and keeping a huge smile on her face. When he approached her, she waved at him friendly.

"Hi, Sting! Early again, huh?" The waitress accosted, showing him with a hand gesture to get inside.

"You could say that…" He answered quietly, nodding in greeting.

"I suppose that yesterday you had to have quite a tough way back home from down there. Hey, I wonder, after I was gone, did Elfman make you drink a pepper drink of his?"

"Um, no?"

"Lucky you." Sherry laughed. "He's making innocent, not expecting such a thing people drink that… Imagine that none of them's ever stood the taste… And the spice."

"How does it look like?" Sting asked, frowning.

"Why? Wanna try?"

"No, rather avoid making an idiot out of myself."

"Oh, it's red as hell." Suddenly, she eyed him. "But, still, if he makes you one, he considers you a friend. So, you know, don't panic when you get one. Oh! Are you coming to the bar after the performance, then?"

"I was planning to…"

"Great!" The waitress clapped her hand against the tray and grinned even more. "Then you'll meet another member of our little mutual adoration society."

"Okay." Eucliffe commented, not too excited about that. "I'll sit down, see you, Sherry."

"Yup, later!"

He went to his usual table and flopped on the chair, sighing. There he was again. Truth to be said, he didn't know why he was still coming there. Maybe because those words he heard from the singer were making him feel more than simple pain? Or was it giving him the slightest slice of hope? Or maybe it was about the fact that he was between other people, which was making him feel a bit better… Or at least he could stand his own presence, which had become disgusting to him? He was sordid with his darkness and an eternal expression of an angered owl. Surely, he didn't smile along with others —he couldn't!—, but some socialization appeared to be a necessity to maintain his sense.

At the very last, when some waiter who was in Sherry's place that day delivered his Manhattan (dry version), Sting caught a glimpse of his watch and decided it was time for the show. And he wasn't waiting too long.

That evening, Lucy came out and bowed down quickly, then moved to her business. When she sat in front of the piano, as always, her sight swept the whole place. However, after seizing the picture, she returned to look at Sting, who sat there with a blank expression. Upon seeing that, he cocked a brow at her.

Seconds later, he was under an impression that Heartfilia nodded at him, then moved to the keyboard, while the man behind her played the guitar. Lucy fixed her microphone like she'd done nothing extraordinary. But why would she? _Oh, shit._ Maybe she remembered his escape from the last song? Nonetheless, Sting kept his poker face, perfectly hiding his confusion and anxiety.

Meanwhile, Lucy started to sing; her first words seemed like a plead, a soft pray. Her voice was delicate, clipped, shy. She half-closed her eyes, getting into the singing. She stopped playing the piano for the first three lines, having the guitar as the only accompaniment.

_Please, don't see_

_Just a girl caught up in dreams _

_and fantasies_

_Please, see me_

_Reaching out for someone _

_I can see_

That's funny, that same day he'd been thinking about her as described in the first three verses. He was sure that she'd been living on hope and now she denied that. Sting blinked and tried to interpret the rest… So, basically, she was looking for a real friend, right? Did she think one'd help her, or what? Yet, the man restrained a snort. Just because he regarded it as crap didn't mean that the artist couldn't have other opinion.

Suddenly, Lucy started to slowly increase the number of piano parts, still, the guitar was in the lead. For the next line, she reached ahead with one hand, leaving the harmonic hand on the keyboard, playing alone. Then it quickly returned to its previous position.

_Take my hand_

_Let's see where we wake up tomorrow_

Wait. Did she mean that she needed a trusted one to actually "take her hand" or it could be anyone? A stranger, let's say? Certainly, it'd be better to take a risk in two people, not alone… Broadly meant risk, of course. Still, the strongest tenor was wish and expectation… Sting frowned. _Not again_.

_Best laid plans_

_Sometimes are just a one night stand_

Eucliffe almost laughed dryly on that. Hell yeah, he knew that. Damn plans and ambitions that'd been leading him… All those plans for the future he had had… It truly didn't last long, did it?

_I'll be damned_

_Cupid's demanding back his arrow_

Sting paled. Did Lucy just compare losing love to being damned?! Well, of course, in a way, it could be understood like that, yet, he hoped that ONLY metaphorically. He didn't fancy the idea of burning in hell for letting go of that ungrateful, two-timer whore.

Nevertheless, he realized what she meant. Forfeiting love was a pretty good reason to feel damned; how can one miss something one-of-a-kind? Something strong, real, and beautiful like that? If a human being'd lost it, he must have been damned. There was no other possibility. Thus, when he thought about it… Had there ever been real love between _her_ and him?

_So let's get drunk_

_On_

_Our_

_Tears and _

_God_

Sting had to admit that, apart from the flawless interpretation, the woman was doing a great job on singing. Her voice and acting skills were amazing, especially when she purred on 'drunk', grinding on her seat, then joined next two words —grinding again and again on each of them— and led the sound out right where the culmination should appear. He had goosebumps on his arms and legs, feeling slightly moved. Lucy threw her head back and, still with half-lidded eyes, sang on.

_Tell us the reason_

_Youth is wasted on the young_

Eucliffe admitted that even he'd asked 'something above' about any case to why he'd ended up in such a swamp. Moreover, once more, Heartfilia was right. People like him or possibly her were gaining experience and living through disappointments and miseries especially during their youth. They didn't have time to use it to the fullest, busying themselves with bidding of fixing their mistakes or facing consequences of their deeds. That wasn't fair.

_It's hunting season_

_And this lamb is on the run_

_Searching for meaning_

Again with the risk! Just to seek for sense in one's existence. Suddenly, much to his amazement, Sting found himself rather eager to try. To discover himself another time, to give himself a second chance… But did he deserve it?

The blonde lowered her head to its natural position, then asked more like herself than sang the end of the chorus.

_But are we all lost stars_

_Trying to light up the dark?_

At that moment, Lucy's eyes snapped open. Her voice was now stronger and less mysterious. Decided. Powerful. Unlike the chords she was playing, which were delicate and sweet.

_Who are we?_

_Just a speck of dust within the galaxy_

_Woe is me_

_If we're not careful turns into reality_

Sting felt a nip of pain in his heart; he was the same. Could it be that he himself turned his life into a miserable one — just because he cared too much? Maybe he shouldn't have propounded his mourning on everyday things? He crossed his arms. Although, how could he not?

Yet, something brought him back to the Earth and Café de Bleu. Without warning, Lucy stood up roughly on the word 'dare'. She had furrowed brows and fortitude written all over her face. She was also singing more violently, powering up her own lyrics.

_Don't you dare_

_Let our best memories bring you sorrow_

_Yesterday_

_I saw a lion kiss a deer_

That time, it was the blond man who frowned. He couldn't imagine moving on without forgetting everything he had had with _her_; along with the nice memories. _She_ should be erased from his mind once and for good. What, did that woman expect him to forgive _her _and live happily ever after in peace, from time to time recalling some great memories of their life together?

Still, wasn't the next line telling him that everything was possible? Or that one should seek for his opposite? Sting wasn't sure… Both interpretations seemed silly.

In a second-long pause Lucy adjusted the microphone so that she didn't have to lean down strangely while standing. Then, she went on.

_Turn the page_

_Maybe we'll find a brand new ending_

_Where we're dancing in our _

_Tears and_

_God_

Only a few first tables were able to see it, but by then Heartfilia had her eyes full of tears. She was hoping to reach something within at least several of her listeners. To understand that when the situation couldn't be worse, it was always going to be better. That when she'd cried all the tears of sadness, they turned into fair ones. A catharsis for her soul. A music to which she could dance. However, only one person seemed to comprehend. The one leaning forward on his table, once again revealing himself, looking vulnerable, greedily catching every word she sang.

_Tell us the reason_

_Youth is wasted on the young_

_It's hunting season_

_And this lamb is on the run_

_We're searching for meaning_

_But are we all lost stars_

_Trying to light up the dark?_

Near the end of the last chorus' line, Lucy turned her tearful eyes right on Sting and locked his gaze with hers. Neither of them could look away. Her playing turned harsh, her voice almost begging. Nearly crying. Hardly seeing. Barely daring.

_I thought I saw you out there crying_

_I thought I heard you call my name_

_I thought I heard you out there crying_

_Oh, just the same_

Sting couldn't describe it. All of his wording, his rich vocabulary, had failed him. Unwillingly, his right eye shed a tear which rolled down his cheek. The male quickly, almost embarrassingly wiped it away, mindful of Lucy's watching. _Fuck_.

He didn't need to ask how she knew about it. He didn't feel the call for justification of what had happened. He just… He simply _knew_. He felt it. And he knew that she felt it, too.

Having confirmed what she wanted to, Lucy turned her sight away and finished the chorus with assurance.

_And God, tell us the reason, youth is wasted on the young_

_It's hunting season and this lamb is on the run_

_Searching for meaning_

_But are we all lost stars_

_Trying to light up the dark?_

_Are we all lost stars_

_Trying to light up the dark?_

At the repetition, the woman lowered both her voice and her head, and when she voiced the last word, she slumped on her seat, visibly out of strength. Lucy stayed that way for a while, then, under a worried gaze of her guitarist, she stood up, bowed, and left the stage as fast as she could.

When she finished, the people at the café were sitting still for a moment. Undoubtedly, Lucy had excelled herself that night; equally in interpretation and in words. It was simply amazing.

Sting clapped with others. Suddenly, the woman came back on the stage, raising her hands. The applause died and each rapt face turned to look at her. Especially the man watched her with double attention. Finally, Lucy smiled nervously and coughed.

"Thank you so much. I-I'm not a very stage person…" She smiled apologetically, causing a few outbursts of laughter. "But I need to say something important."

Heartfilia gazed around, meeting Sting's eyes, then quickly lowered her head and covered her eyes with long bangs. He recalled the first performance of her he'd ever seen; she'd been hiding from others when she wanted to hide her true self. When she wanted to reveal her true feelings. Or when she wanted to state something significant.

"Thank you. So…" Lucy gulped, then spoke again, uttering every word quieter and quieter. "A-actually, I wanted to dedicate today's song to… A special someone." Silence. "That someone struggles with his life and problems, which appeared out of sudden. Also, he is brave enough to fight with those, to try to go on. I-I know how much strength it needs. And bravery. And determination."

No one answered. For the last time, Lucy eyed the crowd and, so very slowly, shifted her big brown eyes on Sting. Unknowingly, he shivered under her sight. Why did he feel a little scared? Why did he feel like she was talking about him… To him? He was being ridiculous, he knew that. Yet, he just couldn't help it anymore. More than ever after the bridge which she had sang precisely to him.

"He's here. With us." Suddenly, she turned her gaze away and stared at someone else. Sting silently sighed with relief. However, the sensation of being the topic of her speech hadn't left him along with her eyes. "And… Well, I don't even know him. I know it sounds weird, but that's the truth." Lucy gulped. "T-this song… Was written a long while ago, but I kept it at the bottom of a drawer. I was scared of making a real song out of it … Even though the lyrics are so real and so touching. I love the truth in them… Still, I sat down and wrote the music to it today morning. For him… And… Here we are."

The blonde sighed and bowed down. "So-sorry for this, but I had to explain. Thank you all."

Eucliffe joined the goodbye applause which walked her off the stage, leaving him pondering.

That night, Sting craved to meet her more than before. Wait, hadn't Sherry said that she knew Lucy the singer…? Well, even if she did, he hadn't decided yet whether to give her a chance and ask —certainly, not straightly— for some advice, or not to… In conclusion, he made up his mind; he wouldn't ask the waitress about Lucy Heartfilia.

Not yet, that is.

* * *

Half an hour later, Sting was sitting down at the bar with Elfman and Mirajane Strauss behind the bar desk, with Sherry popping up from time to time, getting drinks for customers, and Cana Alberona, a newly met chick, who visibly aspired to beat the world's highest alcohol containment in blood record. Nonetheless, she was nice. They were chatting —in Sting's case, he was answering shortly and crabbily, yet, with every drink it was changing little by little— and generally having fun. Thanks to Sherry's previous warning, Sting hadn't touched the pepper drink that Elfman'd prepared for him. Strauss had tried everything to make him consume it, even commenting that "it's on him", which caused a lot of commotion and joking. The barman was a bit disappointed, but gave up after a while.

"Sting, it'll still be waiting for you." He told the blonde. "See? Right here. Real men drink hot things!"

"Elfman, you're scaring our customers." Mirajane warned him with her angelic voice.

"Oops, sorry, Mira. Sorry, people!" Her brother waved at the guests, shouting.

"I don't think that helped too much…" The barmaid said, shaking her head.

"Anyway!" Suddenly, Cana yelled, causing other people to stare at her. "When will our special guest come? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Definitely." Mirajane checked the time and nodded her head. Then she spotted Sherry. "Oh, Sher! When is she coming here?"

"Oh? I guess in ten, right when I finish my job and join you, too." The waitress answered with a grin. "Getting impatient, huh?"

"Like'ell we are." Cana smashed her mug on the desk. "Meanwhile, get me another one, Elfman."

"Why me?"

"Cause Mira won't give me any more, her own words."

"Um… Sorry, but… Who are we waiting for?" Sting asked, frowning. He didn't really want to disturb them, but since he'd been recently accepted…

"Oh, right, you don't know." Cana quickly smirked at him. "Don't worry, you won't regret it."

"Regret what exactly?" The man asked, slightly annoyed.

"You'll see in ten, I suppose."

Even though Sting wanted to push farther, he understood that he had to wait anyhow. He sipped his Manhattan and got engaged into a conversation with Mirajane, who asked about his profession.

After ten minutes, Sherry joined them at the bar, still in her uniform. "Man, what a day! I haven't had such a work out in a while. I swear there's more people every day…"

"No wonder, our star is shining bright." Mira smiled.

"Certainly. Poor girl, though, imagine what'd happened to her to write something like that…" Cana snorted, knocking some rhythm with her legs.

"Right! Sting, what do you think about our singer, Lucy?" Unexpectedly —well, for the said man—, all of them stared at him, awaiting an answer.

Eucliffe looked around them, thinking. Should he tell them anything at all? It wasn't their business… Still, he shrugged lightly and answered, trying to be as emotionless as possible. "She's very good."

However, he didn't expect another voice to reply to him from behind.

"Oh, thank you…"

* * *

Meanwhile, Lucy Heartfilia was sitting in her dressing room, inwardly shouting at herself ever since she'd entered. She was so freaking obvious that it was all done for that guy; but she couldn't even explain herself, because she'd have to admit that she'd heard the whole quarrel between the white-haired girl and him. What's more, her stupid sixth sense —or, in other words, woman's intuition— was telling her to put confidence in him, to take a chance… _In what exactly?_ She groaned and covered her eyes. The woman's intuition was guiding her alright. However, it omitted the part to divulge _why_ she should follow.

Actually, was it even wise to reveal her true feelings in front of the audience? She'd never done that before; but that man's obvious hurt had been like a warhead, causing her to open up. But… _Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid Lucy…_

Out of nowhere, the door opened and her guitarist, who happened to be a good friend as well, walked inside. He was rather in a good mood, but it ended right when he spotted Heartfilia. Upon seeing the woman with covered eyes and lips' corners turned down, he halted and assumed she was crying; so he asked quietly, delicately. "Hi, Lucy. You alright? Wanna talk?"

"Oh, Loke." She budged and hurriedly held her palms down, clearly embarrassed that he'd seen her like that. "Sorry, I haven't seen you. No, it's okay."

"Did the performance tire you? What's wrong?" Loke wanted to know, approaching her and sitting beside. He was worried.

Yet, Lucy shook her head. "It's fine. Don't fret."

"But…"

"Loke. Please." She looked at him pleadingly. How could he say no to those eyes? "Anyway, are you coming with me to meet with our band? You know, Mira, Elfman, Cana, Sher…"

"Sorry, I can't. I've got a date." Loke grinned, winking. "But if you want me to come, I'd gladly…"

"Spare it. Go on that date of yours." Lucy spat and almost smiled. She still couldn't get used to his flirty ways, even though they'd known each other for a year. "See you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah." Loke answered, disappointed. He ruffled her hair and stood up. "Don't get back home too late."

"I won't."

Lucy watched as the man was leaving, then returned to her closet. In a mirror, she eyed herself critically; she had to erase the makeup. Definitely. Stage look didn't really go with her every day one.

When she finally decided she was ready, she checked the time. Sherry would come for her any minute.

Moments later, a light knocking was heard and a head of the waitress popped in. "Hi, Luce! Coming?"

"Sure." The blonde got on her feet and met with Sherry's opened arms. "Aw. I missed you, too."

The women stood there for a moment, embracing each other, then let go and rushed out of the dressing room. The pinkhead started blabbering about the upcoming meeting.

"Natsu and Lisanna couldn't make it, because they're abroad. Coming back next week. But the other Strausses are here! And Cana. I haven't heard from Erza and Jellal for a while, but I guess they're busy with their company. Levy and Gajeel promised me that they'll come tomorrow."

"And what about Juvia and Lyon?" Asked Lucy, her eyes tendering. She adored those two together. And although she regretted that not everyone could make it, it was amazing that a few would be there. "And your Ren?"

"He's not _my_ Ren, you know." Sherry blushed. "He's at work. But wants to meet you. Oh, Juvia and Lyon will come later."

"Okay."

"By the way, Luce, I didn't write to Gray…" Suddenly, Sherry turned serious and eyed her companion. "But told the others that he can't make it."

"… Good. Thank you." The blonde whispered, turning her head away. "I-I don't want to see him."

"Figured. Oh, and I've noticed that today you mostly sang to one guy." The waitress grinned. "Oh man, a special someone…! Wanna meet him?"

Lucy threw her a hard look. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. You'll know him in a second, though! He's recently been accepted into our band by Mira and Elfman… And me. Sting's okay. And he clearly wants to get to know you, yet, he's shy."

"Shy?" The blonde snorted. "He's rather upset. I-I mean…"

"Do you want to tell me something?" Sherry clapped her hands and came closer to her. "How do you know his name? And about what bothers him? And why are you interested.? Don't lie; you _so_ are!"

"Because…" Heartfilia bit her lip. "It was an accident. I was coming back from here and bumped into him and some woman, yelling in the middle of the street… I hid myself and heard the whole thing. I know what's wrong… Partly. And… And… Don't get me wrong, I just _had to_ make this song for him."

"You mean… Basically, you made it only for him."

"Well, yes."

"Perfect." Sherry cried, throwing her fist up. "Just like beginning of a book! Lately, I've read a great romance, something like Jane Austen's one… Damn, I forgot the title. I'll tell you about it later."

"Sher." The artist stopped. She gazed at her friend with sadness, making the other one speechless. "I… I swear, romance is the last thing I'd think of right now. It's too soon… Too raw."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Thanks, though."

The women continued their walk downstairs in silence, but when they reached the bar, Sherry caught Lucy's arm and whispered: "Let me get there first, okay?" The blonde raised her brows, but nodded nonetheless.

Sherry smiled and went ahead. Heartfilia watched as she was sitting down and talking to others. She counted to five and followed the pinkhead's steps… Arriving perfectly to hear Mirajane asking the blonde guy sitting with his back on her.

"Sting, what do you think about our singer, Lucy?"

She stopped. What was he going to say? Next, she saw him shrugging and heard an answer: "She's very good."

"Oh, thank you." Lucy couldn't help but reply on that.

The man, who'd been preoccupying her mind the whole day, turned around with a slightly surprised expression. Sudden cries filled the air when Cana, Mirajane, and Elfman greeted her enthusiastically.

"Lucy!"

"Our star's here!"

"Lucy, as sexy as ever." Cana was the first one to crush the blonde's bones in a hug. "Took you long enough, eh?"

"Sorry, I couldn't come earlier." She responded, feeling guilty.

"No prob, dear." Mira leaned on the bar desk, catching Lucy's hands. "Welcome back."

"Elfman, I see you've become a real man!"

"Of course, Lucy."

"Aaaand here we have…" Cana grinned and reached out for the blond male, who was sitting there with an unreadable face.

"Hi. I'm Lucy Heartfilia." She introduced herself, coming to him and holding out her hand. She couldn't really stop looking at him; so that was the one who'd gotten her interested.

"Sting Eucliffe." He said, taking her hand into his. He also seemed to be a bit fascinated.

Lucy didn't smile, nor did he. Finally, startled, she took her hand away and forced herself to gaze at others, too. However, being rather distracted, she missed the look of Mirajane, who, being quite perceptive, noticed what had happened. Being an unachieved matchmaker, she started to form a plan.

"It's great to see you…" The singer said, then glanced at Sting. "And meet you, guys."

They all cheered (okay, ALMOST all). Elfman and Mirajane took out a tray with several drinks and passed to everyone; next, they all tapped with the glasses, beginning the reunion meeting.

The gathering went on smoothly. After a while, two new people joined them: Lyon Vastia and Juvia Lockster. Despite the fact that they all were one band, others didn't let Sting feel alienated. Everyone had his and her chance to get to know him better, asking various questions and laughing at his seriousness. They absolutely didn't mind even his grumpiest answers and enjoyed doing the bonding. Well, maybe Sting was the only one to be faintly irritated, but deep inside was glad to be accepted — even like that.

Of course, the main star of the evening was Lucy. It turned out that she'd come back after a longer absence. However, she revealed so little of her past —especially the recent one— that Sting felt bothered and perplexed. According to what the others were saying, the blonde had just appeared one day in their town and they were friends ever since. Wasn't it mysterious?

Finally, when everyone got enough of both Sting and Lucy, they started talking between themselves about some recent events. Heartfilia tried to follow the conversation, yet, soon, she became bored. Therefore, she turned to Sting, who was sitting two seats from her, and scooted towards him.

"Can I?" She asked.

"I guess." The man nodded, observing her.

"So, you're already part of us. Do you like our little group?"

"I-I'm not sure yet…" He admitted. "I mean, you all seem nice, but it's strange. You know nothing about me, but welcomed me like an old friend… I'm the grumpiest companion there could be right now, and you simply don't care. Just what kind of people are you?"

"We're freakish, I guess? But I love them." The blonde stated. Her eyes softened and filled with tenderness. "They're the best bunch of people I've ever met. You can always count on them and they're all such sweethearts."

Sting followed her sight and watched as Sherry challenged Cana into a drinking contest, while the others were cheering them on and laughing. Then, Lyon gazed up and waved friendly at the blondes. They returned the gesture.

"I've seen you on all of my songs so far." Lucy said next.

"Yeah, well. Sherry recruited me by accident and…"

"And it reached you." She stated.

Eucliffe looked at her in thought and replied. "Yes."

"I'm glad. It's amazing when you're moved by music, isn't it?"

"You're a musician?"

"Not really. I like playing the piano and my mother made me learn how to sing, but I really just write lyrics and… Well, the music flows on its own." She glanced at him curiously. "Do you play?"

"A bit." Sting admitted, though he wasn't sure, why. "I used to sing, too, but not anymore."

"Oh, really? Why?" Yet, his face darkened and Lucy quickly shook her head. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to invade your privacy. Forget it."

Nevertheless, Sting made no move. He didn't want to answer that, he really did not. On the other hand, he was trying to get himself to ask her about something important — and he was trying to make it sound more subtle. Finally, he looked up at her.

"Lucy…"

"Y-yes?"

"How… I mean, when—" Eucliffe grimaced, furious at himself for stuttering like that. Yet, the woman seemed to understand and was patiently waiting for him to finish. Or to voice whatever he had to. "Uh. How can you… Write… Play… Or sing after… W-well, I assume that something _bad_ happened to you… And you still can manage it? Put it in words, say it out loud? _Live_ with that?"

She was staring at him in silence, considering her answer. He abruptly felt like an idiot.

"Okay, no problem. That was an intimate question. There was no—" He mumbled, but was cut in short.

"Huh, give me some time to think it over. I mean, I've let you gather your thoughts." She frowned. He nodded, gazing at her expectantly. At last, Lucy looked him right in the eye, then said with determination. "The first thing you must do is forgive yourself and understand that you deserve better. Like a second chance."

"And when you do…" He gulped. "It gets better?"

"Not really."

The man blinked. No? "Then…"

She sighed. "It's… Complicated. Partly, you're better. But the grieve… The pain stays."

"But you manage it! You handle everything…"

They watched each other in stillness, trying to comprehend the other. Swiftly, Lucy glimpsed at her watch and her eyes widened. "Crap! It's late and the way's rather nasty… I need to go."

"Already?" Cana exclaimed, frowning. "Come on, I haven't ever drunk my seventh beer!"

"We'll meet tomorrow." Lucy promised, then turned to Sting. "You're invited, too. If you want to come, of course."

"I… All right."

Her mouth's corners twitched, but the woman didn't smile. She approached everyone, giving each a hug, then came to Sting. He extended his hand, but instead of shaking it, Lucy pulled the shocked man into an embrace.

"Wanna know a secret?" Suddenly, she whispered into his ear. She made sure he bobbed his head before adding with a hint of hysterics. "In truth, I can't handle anything."

Having told him that, she let go of the man and turned away, rushing out. Sting was unable of doing anything else than simply standing, gaping after her with astonishment. She… What?

"She used to be so happy. Now she doesn't even smile anymore…" Out of the blue, Mirajane Strauss stood right beside him. "She was known for her cheerfulness and ability to fix others… Now it's her who needs that, don't you think?"

Eucliffe didn't say anything, but, inwardly, agreed with the barmaid. She was damn right about that.

* * *

*** - ****to curve into a Chinese 's'**** is an expression we use in Poland when we say that something twirls and curls strangely and/or strongly :)**

* * *

**Don't worry, even though Mirajane'd love to be a matchmaker, it won't be her who gets them together.**

**What do you think? Did it meet your expectations? :)**

**!QUESTION!**

**Do you want Lucy to have a backstory before her recent tragedy? Answer me in a review or in a PM. Doesn't matter, how, as long as I know your opinion!**

**See you soon :)**


	4. Did it ever cross your mind?

**Oh, boy. I love you all. Thank you for the follows, favorites, reviews, PMs, and every other form of appreciation. It means a world to me.**

* * *

**Here, the fourth chapter is all ready for you to read :) even though it proved to be the most difficult one for me to write so far, I hope you'll like it. One thing, though: the song is sang obviously by a man, but try to imagine it with Lucy's voice :) it might be hard, but I **_**had to**_** do it this way. Besides, it's a demo; that's why you may find the song… Weird!**

**There's some Lucy POV in here. I wanted to zoom her situation to you. Oh, and about the question I asked you last time: since most of you do want the backstory, there will be one!**

**Now, please, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Did it ever cross your mind?**

* * *

_Faster, faster…_ It was 6AM and Lucy was already running on empty streets of the town for an hour. She couldn't stand being at home, not with all of the wicked, nagging thoughts on her mind. Goodness, was she cursed, or what? Ever since the reunion meeting the night before, her imprudent brain'd been feeding her with images from her past. Those with all of her friends from there, still in the whole group in particular. The three Strausses, Natsu, Erza, Jellal, Levy, Gajeel, Sherry, – who'd already joined after a few matters with Lucy – Juvia, and… And Gray…

She grunted, speeding up. Not again. _Faster!_ She had to escape. Hadn't she promised herself to finish with that inanity? For God's sake, Lucy reproached, remembering Gray wouldn't change anything. Except for bringing stinging pain and hurtful reminiscences. _Faster!_

The woman felt her heart beating desperately in her chest, protesting due to lack of air. Ache attacked her sides with prolonging stitch. Her whole body wanted to rest, however, her mentality was encouraging her to go on. _Faster, FASTER!_

At last, she couldn't take it any longer. Lucy flopped on a nearest bench in a park she was in, panting. A running song on her iPod'd just ended, so she didn't even bother to turn the device off. Besides, she couldn't really move – she was so exhausted…

Maybe it wasn't the best idea to go running without getting any sleep, after all…? Heartfilia took a deep breath and sat straightly on the bench. She took a look around; leafless trees were circling the small park, covered in white crust. It was almost winter, in the end, but even though she was dressed lightly, like normally for running, she didn't feel the cold yet. No wonder, she'd overworked herself. Again…

Lucy took another breath, then froze. Winter… _Shit, shit, no!_ Winter was Gray's favorite season. He loved arctic winds, chilly days, ice-covered things, ice itself… _Lalala, think about something else!_ Nevertheless, she failed. It was too late. On the other hand, it always was.

Thus, her insides recalled his picture: raven dark hair, a smile of a scamp, regular features, onyx eyes… And his low, velvety voice. Oh. Who was she fooling? She missed him badly. Horribly. Almost unbearably. So much that she could give up anything just to meet with him again.

But… What for? He was gone, she'd broken up with him. Due to his actions, of course. And his collaboration with one and only person on Earth that she despised most; even more than him at the moment. However, at the same time, she knew she'd loved him dearly. She really had. But he'd betrayed her, hurt her, both literally and allegorically, then had told her something which could never be forgiven. The truth was that the reasonable part of Lucy didn't want to see him ever again.

And in spite of all those things, things he'd done, he'd said, she still missed him.

What a fool she was. Lucy smiled one of the most miserable smiles, whishing for him to both come back and completely disappear from her world. Her heart twanged, the painful wave caressing her soul in its own way. Her brown eyes watered and she couldn't hold it any longer; waterfalls of tears cascaded through her fingers, wetting the cheeks and hands. It was cold outside, but, at the same time, she was burning on the inside. What a total, entire, reckless, damn fool.

* * *

"Hello?"

"L-Loke?" Two hours later, she asked weakly though the phone. Calling Loke was something she was barely ever doing, but it always was about something extremely important. "Can you talk?"

"Luce? Are you crying?" The man asked angrily.

In truth, she was. Ever since she'd returned home, she'd been howling on her sofa, covered in a blanket and holding a mug of hot chocolate. In front of her, at the coffee table, there were several empty boxes of cookies. Yes. Lucy had a bad habit of handling the misery with eating sweets.

"N-no, I'm not…" She sniffed. What a pathetic attempt of negation… "I've just caught a cold, you see… Haven't dressed up properly when I went running."

"But today's your performance…"

"Yeah, and that's why I'm calling you." Lucy hesitated, then asked sheepishly. "Could you sing one song for me? I mean, the demo one you've been playing when we were practicing. _Did it ever cross your mind_? I'll play the piano, you know… I won't leave you alone. Promise."

On the other side of the line, there was a long pause. The blonde started to worry, feeling even worse than before. After all, she was putting so much on her friend's shoulders. Moreover, she was deliberately using his crush on her – hell, she knew about it, besides, he'd never been hiding with that – to get what she wanted. However, that time, it was pretty tough; the situation was special. One of the Gray's. And even though only Sherry knew about the real setback, everyone'd noticed something was off, too.

"You there?"

"Yeah… Okay, Luce. But. Are you sure you don't need a shoulder to cry on?" Finally, he responded with anxiety.

"I'm sure. And thank you, I owe you one."

"No biggie. Hey, can you do something for me in return, though?"

"W-what is it?"

"I want you to… To smile when we meet up today." She heard him clear his throat and add with a severe tone: "It's just that I haven't seen you like that for a while… Okay?"

"I-I… I will…" Lucy murmured, defeated. She knew that Loke wouldn't be satisfied with what she was about to add, but she couldn't do it. How? How did one smile, having such a mess inside of both her heart and mind? Thus, she wanted to finish her sentence before the man ended the call; still, at the exact moment she heard a _click_ and Loke was gone. Lucy heaved a sigh and muttered: "… Try."

* * *

Generally, the time of the performance came all too quickly. Lucy, who'd finally stopped crying and spent a lot of time taking a cold shower, arrived at the café an hour earlier and instantly headed to her dressing room. Due to her wretched mood that day, – and the fact she'd been weeping all the time, so her face was truly phantomlike – she was wearing a baseball cap, hiding half of her countenance from the world. The woman intended to put a heavy makeup on, however, she couldn't so it at home due to leaving all of her stuff in the closet at the café.

Lucy awkwardly gazed around, praying internally not to meet any of her friends. Yet, apparently, Fate had different plans for her since, straightway after crossing the doorstep, she bumped into Sherry Blendy.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, miss…" The waitress stumbled, but regained her composure and smiled. "I haven't…" Suddenly, her cheerful smile faded, her face paled, and the girl squealed. "Oh my gosh, Lucy?!"

"Could you not yell, please? Thanks." The blonde whispered, lowering her head. _Please, don't peek under my cap…_ "Sorry, talk to you later, I must go."

But Sherry was not the one to get rid of so easily. Without any warning, she reached out and grabbed her friend's baseball cap, taking it off before Lucy'd cottoned on what was going on.

"Hey!"

"Dear God." The waitress whispered, covering her mouth. Apparently, Heartfilia was looking even worse than she'd assumed. Sherry's eyes were wandering from her puffy, red eyes, wall pale cheeks, trembling and bitten lips, just to return to her upper facial parts. What was even worse, she said nothing – and usually she had much to say.

"Have you seen enough? Can I have my hat back?" Finally, Lucy asked angrily.

"W-what happened?!"

"The usual." She mumbled, putting the cap back on. "Let me be for a while. I need to cover those… Those…" But she couldn't even name her features.

"I'm.. sorry… Um, well, do you need any assistance? I could–"

"No, thanks. I can put makeup on myself. Maybe that's the only thing I won't fuck up."

The rosehead was standing still, allowing her friend to pass by and get to her room. She was disoriented, scared, and angered at the same time. Undeniably, Lucy'd actually swore. She never did that. Not even after _that_'d happened! Besides, her sudden breakdown, her devastation was not a good sign. It was terrible, indeed.

Sherry sighed. What could she do for Lucy? Beats her, not much. Unless… Her eyes widened in realization. Maybe… _I must talk to Sting._

* * *

Meanwhile, Sting, slightly in a better psychical condition than the day before, was going through catalogues of flats and real estate for sale. Well, actually, he had more of forced himself to put aside his problems and shuffle though the catalogue. His friend, Orga, had sent him those in the morning and was kind enough to call the hotel number he was given by Sting the day before when the man would surely browse the offers.

"So, look at page number… Um, seventeen. A nice one, I must say." Orga Nanagear was saying though the phone, instructing Sting and giving him hints on how to manage it all. "See? Not too small and the price's nice…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I don't know!" Eucliffe sighed in defeat, furrowing his brows. "You know, man, it sucks that you're so damn far away."

"Well, it's you who ran away." Orga pointed out. "Also, I thought you wanted my help?"

"Sure, but…"

"Hey, listen. How about I refer you to a friend there?"

"You… Know some real possession agent here?" Sting spat. "Why haven't you said anything earlier? It'd spare all the bullshitting…"

"You haven't asked."

Gathering his residue of patience, the blonde asked, closing his eyes. "So? Who is that?"

"Rufus Lohr, he's a great guy. A bit mysterious and, um, damn weird, but he will help you. Ask for him on Crocus Street No3." The other man chuckled. "Oh, and Sting? Don't make me feel ashamed of having you as a friend. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"So, how're you? Already another butt you're doing?"

"Orga, are you nuts?" Sting felt rage rising inside him. "How could I have anyone when… When…"

"Chill, lover boy. It was a joke to get rid of the tension, but I guess you're still stiff as a ramrod. You should go to some club, have a drink, then maybe have a fun night, and forget…"

"Oh, thanks for the advice. I'm running for it." He commented sarcastically.

"Hmpf. Just wanted to help you." Orga was visibly offended. "Listen, I need to go. Contact Rufus and let me know if you find anything, okay? And maybe you'll be in a better mood or something. See ya."

"Yeah…" Sting grunted, then added silently. "Orga? And I'm sorry…"

"Don't mention it. Bye."

The blond male hung up and closed his eyes, pressing fingers on his temples. He was dumb to blow up at Orga like that, however, Sting had difficulties with keeping his temper in control. Maybe it had something to do with his drastically changing mood, oscillation of spirits, in fact all the ups and downs… He growled, furious at himself. Orga deserved better; and a good apologize from him in particular.

Sting glanced at the catalogue, laying inoffensively at the table. He had to make a decision. He'd already prolonged his stay in that hotel's room, but what kind of life was that? Sting sighed heavily and reached for a watch. _Damn_. To top it all up, he had to hurry up or he would be late.

What was good for him – and he hadn't even realized that yet – was that, in all that commotion, for some time Eucliffe'd forgotten about _her_ and the sorrow he was feeling. Of course, it hadn't disappeared; but rather was pushed to the back of his mind for several minutes.

And hurry up he did. Although he arrived somewhat later than the day before, he still had a time margin. Without even bothering to find Sherry – who seemed to be absent, what an odd thing – he went straight to his table and sat down, undressing from his coat. Finally, some uniformed guy took his order. Wondering why he couldn't spot the usual waitress, Sting sat comfortably and simply awaited the show.

Yet, after several minutes, Sherry was still nowhere to be seen. The man began to be startled, but, out of sudden, the girl herself slumped on a chair next to him with a troubled face. She partly turned to him and uttered:

"Hi, Sting."

"Hi. What's… wrong?" He asked indifferently, back to his previous apathy.

"It's…" She looked around to make sure no one was listening, then gestured him to come closer. He complied, shrugging. "Lucy. I don't know what to do anymore… She looks terrible. And I've run out of ideas…"

"What's happened to her?" Sting furrowed his brows. Now, when he couldn't spy Sherry, the man'd been rather at unease… But when she'd mentioned Lucy Heartfilia… Did he just feel a little… Disturbed as well? However… Why _would_ he be in the first place?

"I can't tell you that, sorry. But I need you to do something." Sherry gazed at him with seriousness and took a deep breath. "Sting, please, go to her after the performance. Her dressing room is to the left, third door in the second corridor… When you walk through the main one, turn right and there they are. You'll handle it from there."

Eucliffe scowled. _What?_

"Why?"

"What why?"

"Why should I go?"

The waitress stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Isn't she your friend?" Silence. "Sting, I beg of you. Actually, maybe the fact she doesn't know you that well'd play into our hands… I have a really good feeling about that… Oh! Anyway, gotta go. But, please, pay her a visit. Promise?"

Sting eyed the rosehead, still obviously unconvinced. She was waiting for his response with anxiety and fidget. At first, he wanted to protest. _Why _the fuck had she asked him? Didn't he have enough of his own problems to look after Lucy Heartfilia, who, rumor had it, was always encircled by friends and people who loved her? Moreover, something was up; Sherry obviously had more on her mind to that… But, the moment he wanted to refuse, he remembered the singer from the night before; scared, broken, and teary when she'd told him about her true feelings: "_In truth, I can't handle anything._" It'd moved something within him… Thus, reluctantly, but still, he nodded his head. Sherry smiled faintly at that and disappeared.

* * *

In no time after that, the lights went down and two people went out on the stage; Lucy and her guitarist. At once, Sting's sight transferred on her form in attempt to inspect her face, but he realized it was hidden behind her hair and a… Hat? He mused. Was it that bad? Was Sherry right?

The woman raised her hand and shushed the people before she announced in tired, faint voice. _She's been crying._ Sting realized.

"Thank you all for coming… Again." Lucy sighed and went on. "Tonight, the demo song of mine will be sang by my friend, Loke Celes. He's the one who's playing the guitar. Please, welcome him and enjoy."

"But why?!" Someone from the audience yelled.

"Excuse my temporal… Indisposition." She hesitated. "And enjoy. Loke, show them what you've got."

The ginger man nodded and placed himself in the middle of the stage, adjusting the microphone to his height. Lucy sat behind the piano and hung her head, omitting the usual scouting around. Sting grimaced. Somehow, he didn't like that change one bit.

Loke Celes started to intone with a strange hoarseness, making the sound more of a moan than chanting. It was weird, especially after listening to Lucy's marvelous singing for the past days, but the blonde tried to focus on the lyrics instead of the rather wack voice.

_Did it ever cross your mind_

_Sometimes love is hard to find_

_And I'm not the one for your weary soul_

_Did it ever cross your mind_

_That I have feelings I could never tell about_

_And I'm dying slow_

Eucliffe sighed. Again, the lyrics appeared to be about him. Nonetheless, although he hated to admit it, the song lacked soul. He wanted it to be sang by the woman. By Lucy. For fuck's sake, those were her words. Her feelings. Her own piece of mind. Why would anyone else be singing it? Sting blew a raspberry. That guy, Loke, had no damn idea what he was piping up about.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who'd noticed that. Lucy budged in her place and in a second reached out for a microphone, which happened to be on a trivet next to her. She cleared her throat, signalizing to Loke that she was co-opting the vocals. The ginger nodded and moved away from the mic. The woman stretched and bent her neck bizarrely, not in a possession of time to actually adjust it comfortably.

Sting flinched when she vocalized the chorus; her voice was completely different from what he remembered… Throaty, hidden. And, once again, terribly sad – although that time, others could pick it up, too.

_See, I just spent six black days in the rain_

_And I don't know if I'll ever be the same_

_The only one I've loved is gone forever_

_And I highly doubt that I'll be cured_

_By your false endeavor_

Did she just…? How did she know about others' upcoming attempts to, let's say, fix her? Had Sherry blurted it out? Suddenly, he almost laughed. Come on, the song'd been written a long while ago. Why did he even bother to care?

Nevertheless, Sting knew why he did. He'd been apprehensive ever since he'd learned from Elfman about the specialty of the bar, which was helping others out with their pathetic problems. He was aware of that he hadn't been hiding with his misery, therefore, he probably was the next 'victim' of theirs. It wasn't arduous to guess the cause. What's more, those lyrics had awakened some kind of fidget. His lover was gone; a bunch of queer people'd targeted him as another one to be helped and rescued, like it was some kind of a mission; what kind of sick joke was that? And even if those people wanted to help him, how'd he know if it was even genuine?

Sting growled. At last, why did that girl always have to hammer everything home?

_Oh, did ever cross your mind?_

_Oh, did ever cross your mind?_

Lucy obviously had problems with spitting the words out. Her throat was sore and dry, swollen up by the previous bewailing. Fortunately for her, no one could see her face because of the big hat on her head. Thank goodness, seeing as her countenance twinged with every move, she assumed the view would be wretched. And she herself was simply pitiable.

_Did it ever cross your mind?_

_Eight tenths of love is hard to find_

_But I found it_

_And I lost it_

_And I'm screwed_

Upon hearing the first two lines, Sting rolled his eyes, too tired of his man-of-constant-sorrow conduct to even react otherwise. However, while the woman was singing the next one – he experienced it like receiving a punch. Another – a clout in his gut. And another – a blow between his legs. _Yeah, thanks for the reminder_, he thought bitterly.

_Did it ever cross your mind_

_That maybe I ain't all that strong_

_And possibly I'm more confused_

_With you_

Bitter hurt inundated his whole being when the truth afresh collapsed on his head. Again, the seriousness and the size of the situation terrified him. Then, anger overwhelmed Sting; yes, he wasn't strong. Indeed, he was extremely weak and fragile… Confusion? Fuck yes. But the reason to that was constantly hazy.

_See, I just spent six black days in the rain_

_And I don't know if I'll ever be the same_

_The only one I've loved is gone forever_

_And I highly doubt that I'll be cured_

_By your false endeavor_

_Oh, did ever cross your mind?_

_Oh, did ever cross your mind?_

With a hoarse whisper, she finished the song. That time thought, she didn't wait for the clapping and abruptly stood up – just to run off the stage. The guitarist gapped after her, apparently shocked, then followed her steps. Nor did Eucliffe applaud with others; under a nagging sight of Sherry Blendy from across the room, he rose to his feet, threw a tip on the table, and moved ahead.

For the first time, the performance did not leave him completely breathless. Of course, there were a few phrases that'd stirred his insides, yet, it wasn't the same. Nothing to overthink at night, nothing to be compelled about… Sting tugged his hands in the pockets and turned right. He couldn't find any explanation to his unsettlement and the feeling of anxiety. The Lucy he'd seen that evening wasn't the same, wasn't as frank as before. Something'd happened and he needed to find out, what that was.

Out of the blue, Sting stopped, furrowing his brows. And why exactly he _needed to_ do that? Shit, was there any rational justification? He squinted his eyes; because he considered her a friend? Because she was making him feel less guilty and terrible than normally? Or because she gave him a shadow of hope? _Yeah, that must be it…_

The man went on. He reached the second corridor and encountered third door, then grabbed the knob. Yet, he didn't enter due to raised voices he heard from inside. Eucliffe was standing there with a stony face; he shouldn't interrupt them… But he couldn't leave either; Sherry'd have skinned him. Therefore, he returned to his senses only to move behind a nearest hanger with a couple of furs on it and wait for the storm to pass.

"… And I told you not to!"

"Well, sorry that I care! You're not alone here, Lucy! You can't shut me out! Nor anybody else!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Then enlighten me!"

A loud sob pierced the air.

"No! No, Loke. I can't. Please, leave me alone."

"Whatever. I've had enough of your stubbornness!"

Abruptly, the door swung open and the furious guitarist stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind himself; due to his providence, Sting remained unnoticed. Celes ran out of the corridor, but the other man still stood there, not able to move. _What the fuck…?_

Loud crying was heard from inside; it was Lucy. Sting flinched. Her weeping was so heartbreaking, high-pitched, and sorrowful…

Not thinking twice, Eucliffe left his cache, pushed the door and entered the room.

The woman was sitting in front of a mirror, covering her face with her hands and shaking with every sob. Her hair were a mess, moreover, there was not much makeup left on her face, which was completely wet from tears. She truly was representing a horrible sight.

Hesitantly, Sting made a step towards her. Lucy heard a stomp and her head jerked up, turning to him with an angered expression and a shriek:

"Didn't I tell you to…?!" Upon seeing who she was yelling at, she choked. "Oh! U-um, Sting? I-I…"

He didn't say a word. Instead, he was watching Lucy turn red and bite her lip. _Damn._ She didn't know what to do now; after all, Sting was a witness of such a pitiful scene… What's more, she chewed him out… Heartfilia sniffed and turned her head away, ashamed of her current state. Of her crying. And her yelling. Generally, of herself.

"I'm sorry you see me this way…" They were quiet for a few seconds. "Um… Maybe you should… go… Wait a minute." She narrowed her eyes, but the man couldn't see it. "What are you doing here?"

Sting didn't answer at once. He eyed the blonde in front of him. With slight amusement, he realized that Lucy looked just as bad as he felt. But the amusement disappeared as soon as it'd come. That wasn't good nor funny. _Am I turning into a rude ass?_ Somehow, he didn't want to see her like that.

Finally, he muttered: "I came for you. Get dressed."

"Wh-what?" Lucy twisted her head around and stared at him trough her fingers, covering half of her visage. "I'm sorry, I probably haven't heard right…"

"Get dressed, I'm taking you somewhere." Sting repeated.

That time, Lucy gapped at the man only for a minute before shaking her head and forcing a joyless laugh. "Sting, I really think it's not funny. First off, look at me; in such a state, that's impossible. I don't wanna become known as a spook of the swamp around the town… Besides, we've got a meeting, remember? I invited you as well…"

"Yeah, I remember. But we're still going somewhere else."

"But…"

"You have five minutes to get ready. I'll be just outside." The man apprised her and took his leave.

Lucy gawked at the closed door where he'd just disappeared. What was that about? Why had he come in the first place? She couldn't comprehend it; there was chaos in her mind. Sting Eucliffe definitely hadn't seemed to her that way. What's with being spontaneous out of the blue? And they had an appointment already, why'd he change it?

Yet, after calming down a little, she gave it a second thought and patiently analyzed the situation. During wetting the cotton pad to remove the residue of her makeup, Lucy recalled that that day, Levy and Gajeel were supposed to come. She hadn't seen them for a long while… On the other hand, Sherry'd probably told everyone about her breakdown and, honestly, she didn't want to go through that drama part again. So, was the reunion with her bunch worth getting through the scarring experience of explaining – or, once again: lying – to them? Lucy spat. Lies, lies, lies. Since she's started, it'd become pretty easy to make up new inveracities…

However, she didn't want it. She felt terrible for doing that to her friends, the only people who she had left… On that idea, her eyes teared up again. Oh, what should she do?

Sudden knocking on the door pulled her out of those thoughts. Without earning any kind of response, Sting entered the dressing room again.

"So, you'll make it?"

"Maybe…" Lucy answered in muddy voice.

She heard him sigh. "You won't do it without stopping crying, you know?"

"No, really?" Heartfilia asked sarcastically. "I'm trying, but…"

Abruptly, she stopped. So very slowly, she turned to Sting, who was standing next to her with raised brows. Lucy stared at him in thought. _Sarcasm? I used it on him?_ It'd been a while since she'd allowed herself to make whatsoever joke… Not that it'd changed much, but something within her shifted… Or maybe she was just so tired of constant misery that she'd finally snapped and there was no merit of his? Or was there?

"…ucy? Lucy? Um, Blondie?"

"AH!" She exclaimed, returning to reality. Blood hit her cheeks and created a rosy blush of embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I've been pondering and…"

"Yeah, I've seen that." Suddenly, he appeared right beside her; literally several centimeters were separating them. At first, she felt an urge to move away, but made herself stay at place, looking at his face in front of hers with wide eyes. "Um. Here. Let me help you. It'll save us some time, I guess."

Sting wasn't sure what'd made him do that, but he came to the woman and sat near, then took the cotton pad and began cleaning her face. Lucy couldn't avert her sight; she was inspecting his features from such a small distance. From time to time, she had to close her eyelids to let him clean them from the mascara and eyeshadows, but it didn't really interrupt her searching for a justification for his actions. Nonetheless, she encountered only a perplexing variety of emotions in different stadiums. First, there were seriousness, tension, and focus. She didn't have to puzzle about that for too long, so she moved to the second group: the woman found a mixture of tenderness and meditation. Was he thinking about something concerning his life, maybe past? Aware of that it was impossible to guess anything on her own, she went on. There, she had a problem with distinction; the last group was hidden almost too deeply to be discovered – at least, for an ordinary mortal. But since Lucy was dealing with those same emotions, she saw sadness, depression, pain, and conflict. _He's so hurt… _Suddenly, she wanted to cry over that.

And she? Her emotions were raging inside. It wouldn't be any hyperbole to say that Lucy didn't mind dying right there and then. She believed that one more day of that kind, full of crying her heart out with memory-pictures flashing before her eyes, at the same time blocking any possibility of breathing by sticking to her all over, and she'd be done for good. Moreover, she was exhausted. Damn worn out by all this shit…

The singer gazed at the man turning the pad and rubbing her cheek with it. He was wearing a deep frown all of the time, like he was bewildered. In fact, it was a terrible understatement.

Inwardly, Sting was in deep shock because of his abrupt actions. He was helping her like she was a small girl… Abruptly, an image of _her_ little cousin popped out in front of his eyes… _No. _Snapping out of his musing, Eucliffe tossed away the cotton pad, caught a hair brush and started to comb her hair. Absentmindedly, he noticed that they had a nice tone of blonde, also that they were thick and beautiful. Again, an unwanted picture appeared in his mind. _Wendy_…

"You're practiced in these." Lucy commented to break the silence.

"Yeah."

"From where?"

He rolled his eyes. "I… used to take care of a child."

"A child? Yours?"

"Do I look like a guy with a baby?" Sting frowned again.

"No, sorry, don't get mad…" Lucy lowered her sight and exhaled deeply. "I just… Never mind, you don't have to ans–"

"That girl was a cousin of my… Former… f-friend." He cut in, absentmindedly pulling her hair with more force. A note of tenderness sneaked into his voice, however, he didn't realize it."We were always playing and since she was too small, I had to do her makeup and dress her hair."

"She seems like a nice kid."

"She is."

"I've never had any possibility to play with kids, not even when I myself was one." Lucy confessed, then slammed her hand on her mouth. Anger at herself and melancholy overwhelmed her mind. She shouldn't have said that… Not even Sherry, in fact, _no one_ knew about her true past. Past-the-past. The one she'd been bred in… Noticing that Sting halted with doing her hair, the woman quickly made up a new topic. "Um. Say, what was that about going out?"

"What do you mean?" Fortunately, he let the previous statement slip and renewed his actions, concentrating at the current topic.

"Do you really wanna take me somewhere else?" Lucy turned around to look him in the face.

"I guess." Sting muttered. "Why would I even bother and come here in the first place?"

"… All right." Lucy returned to her previous position and waited patiently for him to finish making a French bride. "I'll go with you."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sting successfully – in other words: without meeting any of her… Alright, _their_ friends – brought the singer outside. They went ahead, not really talking nor knowing where to head.

The man was deep in thought. Truth to be said, he began to be angry at himself for ever agreeing to take Lucy anywhere. To start with, he didn't know the city at all; where was he supposed to take her, to one restaurant which he'd been to, or to the fucking hotel of his? Damn, pathetic… Moreover, he barely freaking knew her; how was he supposed to _talk_ to her? About what? Not that he was socially awkward, but the situation was of two colors: one, lately, he might have lost some of his ability to socialize after what'd happened with _her_…; next, he could accidentally hit a sensitive nerve and broach some shit... It didn't take much to realize that Lucy'd gotten through something terrible and he didn't fancy the idea of rubbing salt into the wound. What's more, Eucliffe honestly had much to think about. For example, he needed to plan his life all over again. He had to find himself a place to live. He necessitated to find a job. And, lastly, he had got to…

"You must lump it."

Sting shivered and transferred his sight at his companion.

"You need to accept it, whatever it is. There's no other way to move on… Or live on." She said, not even looking at him.

"If that were so fucking easy…" He muttered and averted his gaze.

"Nothing's easy, you know. Not even staying completely silent during a walk with another person."

"I…" The blond man budged, then added quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry. I mean, we barely know each other." Finally, Lucy looked straight at him. "Tell me, was it Sherry who sent you?"

"How… Um. Yeah."

"I knew it. She wants the best for me, but…" She hesitated, then finished slowly. "But she's never been through what you or I have."

Sting stopped walking, surprised. _She mustn't know about it… About anything…_

"Okay, that's not the time for this kind of conversation." Suddenly, she agreed with him, apparently reading his silence as a quiet denial to hold that discussion. Later, she looked around. "Sting? Do you know anything in this city?"

"Not really."

"Thought so… Then let _me_ take you somewhere." She offered, earning a nod, and they moved ahead. Silence embraced them once more, but that time, it was Sting who broke it, seeing that they were wandering off the downtown.

"Where are we going?"

"I want to take you in a place where you can think a bit. And show you something."

The man didn't protest. He didn't have any idea where to go anyway. "Okay."

They hadn't talked much till they reached a forest. Sting raised his eyebrows; he had no damn clue there was a forest in there. Lucy eyed him and nodded, leading the way. He was following her, at first along the alley, then they turned left and entered a way through some bushes and smaller trees. After a few minutes, the woman stopped and sighed. The man rolled his eyes, thinking that she was tired and simply panted. Yet, when he joined her, he understood why she sighed.

They were standing at the edge of a clearing. It was pretty charming; small, circled by lush greenery. Lit up only by the moon and stars.

"Welcome to my secret asylum." Lucy told him. "Usually, I take a blanket, a box of matches, or at least a thermos with hot tea, but today's visit is completely random."

Sting murmured something under his nose and looked around; he intended to find a log and put it in the middle of the clearing for them to sit down. Even though they didn't have any materials to kindle a fireplace, it'd be better than sitting on the cold grass. And find a log he did; he brought it to the center and threw on the frozen ground.

"I bet you don't wanna catch a cold." Eucliffe said.

"Thanks." They both sat down and looked up in the sky. The woman commented. "And this is what I wanted to show you. Mesmerizing, isn't it?"

Indeed, the sky was lightened up by millions of stars and looked fantastic. They were so thick that Sting felt like he was under light from reflectors on a stage. However, even the bitter man had to admit that it was beautiful.

"Amazing…" He whispered in awe. "I never knew they could look this way."

"Do you know much about stars?"

"No, nothing."

"Look, then." The singer reached out and pointed to the right; Sting's sight followed her finger as he listened to her. She told him about different constellations, showed him which was which, taught him how to recognize them. He devoured the knowledge, focusing on that. He didn't want to remind himself of that _she_ liked the stars, too. But _she_ could only look at them, nothing more. With no knowledge. Nothing, but empty staring… Abruptly, he wondered whether _she_'d been planning another tryst with _him_ during those spacing out moments. Before he could even realize, he had tears in his eyes. _Shit, I shouldn't have thought about it._ Then, he realized that he hadn't been listening to the second part of her lecture. Thus, Sting focused on his companion.

"And that's basically it for this part of the year." Lucy finished.

"You sure like the stars, don't you?"

"Yes. They make me feel like there's something more than hopelessness and loneliness." She shrugged. "At the same time, they're breathtaking, but also intimidating."

Sting didn't ask her about the last statement. Nonetheless, he seemed to get the idea and that was enough for Lucy, who nodded and returned to stargazing. In fact, she appreciated that he didn't try to dig deeper. That he understood – because he did, right? Furthermore, the woman truly was grateful for him taking her out of the café – and away from her overly preoccupied friends under the command of Sherry Blendy. And there she was, with almost a stranger, showing him her secret place and possibly improving her mood.

It was incredible, but she didn't remember when she'd been feeling that _fine_ before; less lonely, with less to be sad about. It appeared that, by accident, Lucy found a new 'ally' in her life. Despite the fact that they didn't know a thing about each other. Even though he didn't really talk during the whole walk and even right then, when they were sitting on the log, admiring the stars. Still, somehow, he made her feel slightly better.

She shivered. Absentmindedly, she rubbed her shoulders with palms like she was trying to warm herself up.

"Aren't you cold?" Out of sudden, Sting asked.

"A bit." Heartfilia admitted shyly.

"Let's go, then." He stood up and helped her up. "Enough for one night, don't you think?"

"Yeah…"

Lucy spared the last look at the sky and led the way out of the forest. The man followed her silently, trusting she knew how to get out; after all, it was totally dark and without knowing the alleys by memory, they'd have never returned home that night.

"I hope you'll get from here to your place. Where do you live, anyway?" The woman glimpsed at him from ahead, listening to his response.

"Um… The hotel." Sting mumbled. "But tomorrow I'll go to a friend of my buddy, who's a real estate agent."

"Oh? Looking for a flat? I know someone as well." Unexpectedly, she stated. "He's the best in this town, really. If you have any problems with your agent, ask for Rufus Lohr. I'd gladly go with you, haven't seen him for ages."

"W-wait! Rufus Lohr?" He asked and saw her nodding. "It's the same guy, I think." Eucliffe frowned. "You know him?"

"Then you don't?" She was visibly surprised. Suddenly, she nodded and pulled out her cell phone. "Okay. Gimme your number. I'll go with you."

"You will go with me?" He repeated, obviously baffled.

"Um, only if you'd like, of course." Lucy muttered, averting her gaze.

"Sure. I'm in need of someone like you, I suppose." He agreed and dictated his phone number. "Send me a SMS, though, no calling yet. I need to turn on my cell first."

"You don't use it?"

"… Not anymore."

She didn't ask. He was grateful for that. "So, let's meet under the café; you know the way there and it's pretty close, so no worries. Is 10AM ok?"

"Great." Sting bobbed his head. "So… See you tomorrow?"

"Right." Lucy looked like she wanted to do something more than just saying one word for goodbye, but she gave up on that and started to walk away. He turned around as well and went in the direction of his hotel – or so he hoped.

In the silence embracing the surroundings, he abruptly heard his name being called behind him, thus, he turned his head and saw Lucy Heartfilia, standing in one place with her hands put around mouth, creating a megaphone.

"Sting!"

He didn't answer, but stopped and turned around, looking at her. Lucy took a big breath and yelled before rushing away.

"Thank you!"

At first, Eucliffe was rather startled, yet, after a second or two, a new emotion, although slight and minimal, pierced through him: gladness. Without even trying, duh, even giving her the cold shoulder during the whole expedition, he somehow managed to help her out from the breakdown… Abruptly, his eyes widened. Holy shit! He was _glad._ First positive emotion in forever. On second thought, it seemed that her companion did something good for him, too, after all.

He'd have never thought… It'd have never crossed his mind.

* * *

**And? Thoughts, observations? I'd love to hear from you, of course if you have a moment:)**

**Actually, I have no idea how it is; in fact, the meeting between them turned out to be such a delicate issue… They can't really be all buddy-buddy, and I'm worried sick that it's too unreal -.- I hope NOT, though :D**

**Anyway! Thanks for the support :) and see you in two weeks!**


	5. Intimidated By You - part I

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fairy Tail. Nor the songs from _Begin Again_. Only the plot's 100% mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Intimidated By You - part I**

* * *

To say that Sting was excited about the upcoming meeting with the singing woman and the real estate agent would be an exaggeration. Yet, he felt a certain kind of excitement on the thought of _doing_ something, with an actual _someone_. He had had enough of being a loner, living in as much of an isolation as he could have. In fact, he had never been living that way. He had always had many friends, or, if he could not exactly call them _friends_, people to talk to and find a temporal state of relative peace.

However, he could not be kidding himself anymore; it was _him_ who had shut his acquaintances out. Whether it was right or wrong, he was about to find out. Still, Sting did not see any reason why he should have stayed among them while _she_ was going to be there, too. Besides, it was likely that _she _had set all of them against him, making stories of how he had betrayed her trust and left her all shattered. Yes, it was probable that she had turned the situation on its head…

Thus, his only way to stay sane — quite, at least — was to find a new company. Willingly or not; and, it may have been that, fortunately for him, the new company had found him first. And had acquainted him. Unwillingly, oh the irony.

Eucliffe grimaced. He should feel lucky, yet, he was bitter. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had turned out to be simply weak, overly _delicate_ to manage the situation; he had focused on the sorrow only. And, all in all, failed as… Suddenly, Sting spat. _As who? As a man? Is a man not supposed to feel pain?_ Well, no. Yet, he had really had in mind only his wounded heart and, who was he kidding anymore, pride. Also, it might be that he had disappointed himself – had he not always boasted about how he was great with people, with seeing their true colors? And look where he was now; his own fiancée had proven to be the least trustworthy human being ever. That alone was hard to swallow, however, the man had allowed the disappointment — which had turned into depression — to be the focal point, the dominant fact, the new sense of his dreary-by-then life.

Sting frowned and shook his head. No. That was all simply wrong. How could he ever escape the depression if he considered himself a failure of a man? Moreover, how in hell could he ever get rid of his rancor which was poisoning his mind and destroying his life? He had a chance; an actual, real, and substantial chance to change his life.

At last, the man sighed, a little blue. Obviously, he was conscious of that all. But the real "healing process" would start only if he accepted the things he was thinking about. Not just _be aware of_ them.

One step ahead was definitely turning his phone on. As expected, he had received one million messages and had a full voice mail, which had been clearly emphasized in twenty texts from the airtime provider.

What had annoyed him was the fact that he had had to go through all of the messages to encounter the one from Lucy, who had been supposed to text him, at the same time providing him with her telephone number. With an expression of a martyr, Sting had read most of the messages before he had found the one. Mostly, they were from his ex-girlfriend, who had been changing her tone at least fifty times and her number around twenty. Each message had a different beginning, sometimes starting with a plead, sometimes with a threat. He did not care about them, nor had he read those. Only a few first words to make sure that Lucy's text would have been there. Fortunately, he had encountered _the_ one and quickly saved the number, at the same time deleting all the other texts.

Well, it was something. Like he began washing the dirt off himself... Still, he had got to consider changing his phone number. Finally, Sting sighed and stood up. Why wait, then?

* * *

Thus, he was there, standing under the café with his hands tugged into the pockets. Sting was rather annoyed since he had arrived there ten minutes early. The visit at his operator's saloon was much shorter than he had thought and the number changing had turned out to be even easier. And there he was, already waiting. Although it was completely illogical and if he had thought it over, he would have smacked himself for those thoughts, he party blamed her for not thinking he could do that. Plus, of course, he was charging himself: for waking up so early, for not taking longer in the bathroom, for not waiting five minutes longer before taking his leave. However, he had not really mused over it; had blaming himself not become something natural, something essential to him the past month?

At last, he heard loud stomps and when he turned his head, he saw a figure of a running woman — it seemed to be her. He observed that she had that specific position while running, thus, he noted that she must have been exercising frequently. Sting watched her stopping right in front of him; her cheeks were blushed from the effort and the cold; she was also panting slightly. He nodded at her in greeting.

"Sorry, I couldn't take my leave. Are you waiting long?" She asked, preoccupied.

"Don't mention it." Sting mumbled and looked around. "So, are we going?"

Lucy shot him a funny look and cleared her throat. "Thanks, I'm fine. It's so nice of you to ask. And sure, let's go. Meanwhile, you can tell me about yourself."

"No need to be ironic." He grunted, pushing his fists further into his pockets and moving on. Was she not in the mood? Yeah. That must have been it...

"Also, no need to be grumpy. Remember that I sacrifice my free time for you. I really don't need to be here."

Sting clenched his jaws, but said nothing, knowing she was right. The blondes headed to the left, Lucy leading the way. Each of them was pondering with a frown. After a few minutes of silence, Sting decided to take over the situation and actually say something. He figured that an apology would be nice.

"Um, I'm sorry." He mumbled loathly. "I know I'm a terrible companion now. And I kind of admire you for actually wanting to go anywhere with me."

"Apology accepted." She replied, catching a glimpse of his face. "But you should change your attitude a little. I mean, do you really have to take it out on others?"

"You don't know my reasons... You can't really judge it."

"Well, yeah." Lucy gazed away, dipping herself more into her scarf. That was not a right moment to admit she had overheard his quarrel with the woman... "Still, I take it as a promise to be better. And more sociable." She poked her cheek, pondering. "In fact, after my, let's say, life obstacle, I've been the same... Or even worse. But I quickly understood that it was useless since it didn't make me feel any better nor it made me more popular among people. I didn't want to hurt them for something they had no idea of."

"Right." Sting nodded after a second of thinking about her words. He was unable to find any counterargument, so he added in bewilderment. "Actually, that explanation reaches me."

"Good!" Was the reply. Not wanting to continue that topic, she asked. "So, say, what kind of flat are you looking for?"

"Something for me to live in comfortably, I suppose. I can't be living in the hotel all of my life."

"Then you've decided to stay here, in this town?" Lucy stared at him, slightly surprised.

"I think so. I have nowhere to go, really... And I like it here. There are horizons. And many people, which makes it better for me." Sting said a little unwillingly. "Plus I need to find a job."

"Right... But, first, focus on the flat, then look for a job. All at once may end badly." The woman advised him and sighed under her nose.

He did not answer, only furrowed his brows a little. Now, she had lectured him about his attitude, but hers was much worse... Who was she to give out advice like that?

"The thing is, once you get it, you'll find it easier to move on and focus on your future."

At last, Sting felt that that was it. He exclaimed in irritation. "Could you just stop that? I know you want to help, but that doesn't. That kind of crap gets me annoyed and I really don't wanna listen to the life mottos of yours."

Heartfilia stopped, stunned. She gapped at him; for a moment, the man thought she was going to argue. Then, unexpectedly, she hung her head. He had an impression that she fell within herself and he immediately felt sorry for exploding like that. "I-I'm sorry. I mean well, but I guess I must really annoy you... It's just that when I was in your place, I needed someone to help me out... And there was no one. Please, don't be mad..."

Sting sighed and shook his head, feeling his anger fade away. He scrutinized her and said less harshly. "I'm not. Unless you're going to continue."

"No, I won't. Promise!"

"Fine." The man began walking again. Seeing that she was still sad, he cleared his throat and asked. "Hey, tell me... Orga mentioned something about this guy... Like, he is rather strange. What exactly should I expect?"

"Ah!" Lucy exclaimed and bit her lip. "You see, he's a little, um, how to say that? Weird? He seems psychotic, but has an amazing sense of selling. That's why he's so known and considered the best in town... Though I think you'll get to like him..." Lucy shot him a quick glance and added under her nose. "Or not."

"Hey, I'm not that unsociable!"

"Can't agree with you on that. But don't worry if he seems a little out of his mind. He also talks like a poet. Ah, and he always plays some kind of extraordinary music; don't you dare to ask him to change it. Rufus's rather fond of his own taste and doesn't like changing it."

"Alright." Sting tried not to grimace. He was not a huge fan of any psychotic, mind-breaking music he could have been offered. With every second, the idea of visiting Mr. Lohr seemed worse and worse to him. "Say, how much time will it take?"

"It depends on how many offers he has; if it's about only a few, then maybe half of the day?"

The man sighed. So much for his peaceful day...

"Sting?"

He snapped out of his pondering. "Yeah?"

"We're here." Lucy commented, rolling her eyes. "Please, behave."

He spat and murmured. "Always am..."

Lucy ignored the last statement and pushed heavy door of the real estate agency. They entered into a very broad hall, looking around. It was stylish, arranged into a Victorian era with its décor. Before they could examine the insides better, they heard slow steps and when they turned around, an elder woman approached them, asking with a shaky voice.

"Welcome. Do you have an appointment?"

"Actually..." Started the woman, but Sting interrupted:

"For all I know, my friend Orga's already done that for us." He shot his companion a silencing look and went on. "Probably on the surname of Eucliffe."

She gazed down at the papers she was holding and skated her sight along the sheet. "Oh, yes, we do have an appointment like that... Still, the surname is in the brackets after—" There, the old lady cleared her throat and averted her sight.

"Yes?" He insisted.

"Er, after a prissy bighead."

Sting widened his eyes. That jerk! Yet, he recalled that Orga had been mad at him. It was rather typical of him. Still, giving it out in public? The blonde swallowed a swearing word and caught a glimpse of Lucy. She had her lips bitten and seemed diverted. Thus, having no other choice, he rolled his eyes and commented.

"Yeah, don't piss off your best friend. I suppose that'd be me."

"Very well." Fortunately, the aged assistant stayed professional and turned around, leading the way. "Come after me." They strolled to the office at the end of the hall and she knocked on the door. Apparently, she had heard an answer, because she stepped to the side and announced that they could enter.

Sting went ahead and opened the door before the woman, letting her go first. She thanked him with a nod and stepped inside. He was right after her... And it was a good choice to play a gentleman and let her pass first. Otherwise, she would have bumped into him when he had stopped at the sight of the room and a person in it.

The place was wide, furnished in an old-fashioned way. It was rather dark there, only one lamp was illuminating the room. One of the walls was entirely covered in pictures of various kinds, mostly views. There was a huge carpet and a fireplace... Also, a broad bookcase, where hundreds of poetry books were placed. Sting gapped at it all. Additionally, the music Lucy had mentioned to him was, indeed, playing. He swallowed a groan. Abruptly, a very bright light was turned on.

And a man with his back turned on them came into sight, greeting his guests with a baritone.

"Ah, welcome, my comrades! I take it that you are the one and only Sting, a friend of Orga?" The owner of the office spun to them with an enigmatic smile. "And you... On the brightest stars, isn't this Lucy Heartfilia?"

"Hi, Rufus." She answered, trying to smile, yet, she only managed to force out an artificial one.

Sting inspected the other man. Rufus Lohr was in his early thirties; he was a stately man with long, straight hair, braided up. His face was handsome, but appeared delicate. He was wearing a little out of fashion clothes, though elegant. At the desk, there was a hat with a broad brim and a quill. Rufus was keeping a tall posture, seeming extremely well-mannered. Moreover, Sting noted that Lucy had been right; he was talking like a poet. And he definitely was weird.

"Nice to meet you. Indeed, I am Sting Eucliffe, Orga's friend." Thus, the blonde said, hitting the formal tone. "I hope we don't disturb you?"

"Not at all! Although I must admit I am rather amazed by Lucy's presence here. I had no idea that you were acquainted, what a pleasant surprise!"

"Yeah, well. It's a rather recent development." The woman told him.

"Either way, it is always nice to have old and new friends at demesne. Would you like some tea? Coffee? Anything?" Commented Rufus, making an undefined move with his hand.

"Maybe some tea, if you could." Lucy replied, still with the unnatural smile. Sting shot her a strange glance and also asked for tea.

"Very well. Just a second, I will get my assistant..." And Rufus was gone, leaving them on their own.

Using the occasion, Eucliffe got closer to the woman and muttered into her ear. "Don't smile like that, it's completely ineffective and looks scary."

"What? Oh, but I don't want him to know that something's wrong... So I must keep the straight face."

"It's not straight. It's more of a grimace, seriously." He frowned.

"I-if you say so..." Lucy stopped smiling strangely, letting her smile drop and her face became truly straight.

At that moment, Rufus found it perfect to come back and invited them to sit wherever they liked. "Ah, sorry, my dear guests, but I had a difficulty with finding my assistant! Yet, she proved to be irreplaceable once again and thought about making tea earlier. She shall bring it soon. So! What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for a flat. Or a house." Answered Sting.

"Yes, Orga has mentioned something like this..." He pondered, bracing his chin on a fancily twisted hand. "Very well. Of what parameters?"

"And how would I know?" Mumbled the blonde. "My counselor's far way and that's why I came to you."

"Right. Actually, I have talked to Orga about it and I think I have something just for you."

"Just, Rufus, remember that we're looking for something really good." Lucy butted in. "You know, of the kind you always find unexpectedly and like no one else would..."

The man with the braid seemed pleased with the complement and smiled slightly. "Of course! I wouldn't offer you anything of bad quality, not to my friends!" There, Rufus widened his eyes, seemingly shocked. Sting thought that he was making quite a show with his acting. "Therefore, I have two or three offers. Would you like to see them?"

"Of course." Eucliffe answered, hoping that the man would be a better agent than a companion to talk to.

Lohr stood up and went across the room, where he grabbed a folder laying under several others and returned to the guests, sitting down in front of the man. He opened the file and searched for the first papers. "See, the first one is a house, uptown, almost at the edge of the city. It is quite cozy and sufficient, if you know what I mean. It has two floors. The first floor has three rooms: a kitchen, a saloon, and a dining room, plus a bathroom with laundry. The second story has two bedrooms, another bathroom, and a terrace."

Sting took the papers and scanned through them. Looking at the picture, he asked. "The other?"

"The other is a flat in the center, very well-furnished. Three rooms, a bathroom. Plus a terrace."

"And the third?"

But immediately after seeing the photo of the last one, Sting refused buying that one, deciding to inspect the two offers he was holding.

"Terrific." The host smiled. "Thus, I shall leave you with them for a while. Read it all carefully, check everything, and prepare questions."

"Wait. Rufus, what would you recommend?" Asked Lucy, sending her companion a silencing look. "I think that an opinion of an expert'd be the best."

Even though Sting was against that, Lohr cleared his throat and declared: "Thank you, Lucy. In fact, the first one is definitely better if you want to start a new life. I would have taken it myself. It allows you to build everything from the scratch, change the setting of the rooms, furnishing it all due to your current taste. On the other hand, the second one is already completely furnished, has almost everything since the previous owners don't want it anymore. Moreover, I think that Sting should see them both on his own, in reality. I do not sell ritually unclear property. Nor would Sting buy a pig in a pole, I suppose... So, are we going?"

"We? Going? But where?" Eucliffe asked, dumbfounded.

"To those two locations, of course!"

"Sting, are you okay?" Lucy frowned at him, seeing his surprise.

"I guess... Well, fine." He replied, wondering if the agent was like that every day or just because Lucy, his friend, was with him.

"Then, please, take your time and examine the offers closely. Meanwhile, I will have a word with Lucy, whose smile can brighten up the darkest sky!" Rufus exclaimed, clapping his hands and smiling widely.

"Um, sure." Sting muttered and grabbed one of the offers, intending to read the text carefully and not eavesdrop on the friends — however, it proved to be almost impossible since neither of them was being any discreet.

"But what do I see, my dear Lulu? It is highly unusual for you to be sad... And your eyes are plenty miserable."

"Ah, you see, it's nothing..." She laughed strangely and asked. "Better tell me how's it going with Minerva?"

"Perfect, simply amazing. She is an angel in disguise! Sometimes even too hidden... Well, she is fantastic until she gets mad, of course. But you do remember—"

"Yeah." She interrupted, making him chuckle.

"I am still amazed how you managed to forgive her... Anyhow. Tell me, dear, the thing that you do not want to talk about... Does it concern Gray?"

There, Sting, who could see neither of them, felt the atmosphere thicken. Not a word was uttered by the woman, but Rufus seemed to understand it all too well. He growled and a loud clout rang in the room. Sting suspected that Rufus had smacked his fist on the table.

"Damn that little douchebag! I will personally rip out his dark heart—"

"No, please, calm down. I appreciate your worry, but I'm fine." Lucy told him in a muffled voice.

"Fine? Of course you are anything but that! Anyone can see that!"

"Still, I don't want any fuss about it anymore. Damn, I've had enough..."

"How come only now do I learn about it? Why haven't you called me and told me to get him? I mean, we're friends. I'm here to protect you. And not only me. All the bunch from the cafe, our group, duh, I bet even Minerva would have loved to kick his ass if she knew..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Ruf. Not with you, not with anybody." Lucy whispered. "Not anymore..."

"Have you talked to anyone at all?"

Once again, Sting could not catch the answer. Yet, he did not have to. He knew the reply. After all, his own was the same.

"You know, he came to me." She said somewhat louder. "On my first performance, when I was singing the new stuff... About him."

"NO! He didn't dare to!"

"Surprise, surprise..."

Eucliffe stopped riffling through the pages, pondering. So he had been right. During the first performance when he had seen her, there had been a shadow on her face, moreover, the brunet he had spotted had something — everything, as it seemed — to do with it. He had been involved with her... And with her misery. What he had to do was to find out more: the details, the backstory... Unexpectedly, he budged and frowned. Why did he, anyway? It was strange of him to show interest in something of that kind... Was it not? Sting was, after all, an outsider. He had nothing to do with that...

Suddenly, a song that was currently playing filled the room, replacing the silence that had fallen upon them. Willy-nilly, Sting focused his attention of the track, which was extremely strange. Psychotic even. The lyrics were blurred, hazy, he was not sure if he could actually understand them, or it was his imagination creating those. The only thing he clearly detected in between the noises like moans and hums were:

_And I'm on the floor_

_So intimidated by you_

Sting stiffened and frowned. Was the song trying to tell him something...? Yet, before he could ponder over it more, Rufus broke the silence by clearing his throat.

"Lulu, I am so terribly sorry to hear this and that it happened to you of all people." Lohr declared. "Maybe it will be cruel of me to state that now, but you looked perfect for each other, simply ideal. I would have never thought Gray would turn out to be such a bastard."

"Bummer."

"When was that?"

She hesitated before answering with shaking voice. "H-half a year ago..."

Now, it was the host who did not respond; instead, Sting heard rustling and a noise of steps before next words of the man mixed with a creaking of opening door. Then, the old lady announced bringing the tea.

Sting clenched his jaws. He really wanted to hear his answer, especially when he raised his sight to look at the elder woman and a picture of Lucy held by Rufus, who was cradling her, met his sight.

"Ah, perfect! Sting, do join us and we shall drink." The real estate agent stood up and invited him over with a smile, returning to his previous humor like nothing had happened. "And tell us where we are going first!"

Having no other choice, the blond male lifted himself on his feet and approached the rest with a strange expression; in fact, his face looked like he was thinking about many things at once, roughly beginning with anger and ending on pity. Lucy was not looking at him, her gaze lowered on her knees. Maybe it was because of the fact she had not collected herself yet after the talk... Or that she knew Sting had heard everything. He sighed and transferred his sight at the other woman. The assistant served him the tea and left, not wanting to interrupt.

"Sorry I took a while." Sting said, his mind working rapidly. Due to the fact he had heard the whole — or almost all of it — conversation, he had not made any decision yet. Fortunately, he had an ability to cope in such situations. "But I think we should go downtown first since it's closer and smaller. After all, it's a flat. The second one, the house will surely take more time."

"Excellent." Commented Rufus, nodding. "You do know what you are talking about. I am impressed."

"Actually, that's great." Lucy spoke up next. "You know, I live around."

"Really?" Eucliffe tried not to grimace. "How much is around?"

"Three blocks further from the house we shall see." Told him Lohr enthusiastically. "Is it not amazing?"

Sting hesitantly nodded his head. He had not expected it. He was not sure whether to be worried, bitter, or happy about it. After all, a familiar face would be nice for taking first steps in his new life and new surroundings. She surely knew much more about the neighborhood and life there — she could be useful. On the other hand, he was aware of that Lucy Heartfilia was bothersome and he did not always entirely enjoy her companion...

Thus, conducting such a discussion within himself, he replied without much conviction: "Yeah."

* * *

Therefore, they all visited the two places.

Sting found the first one cozy, yet not what he was looking for. Moreover, after spending there a while, he was ready to escape from that place. In fact, the walls had color of his previous flat where he had lived with _her_, plus the whole plan of rooms was almost the same. There was much furniture differing in styles, but he was seeing the things he had gotten rid of lately like they had come after him, to that place. He forced himself to calmly announce to Rufus that he would have rather seen the other one. Fortunately, the agent did not say a word and simply led them out of the flat.

The next one, the house, proved to be absolutely different from what he had gotten used to — and from what he had known. Sting was delighted to see that the place was toned in browns and ecrus, with carpets — which _she_ had not allowed since _she_ had an allergy to dust — and a fireplace. He had never lived in a place with two floors, therefore, he was amazed to find that he rather enjoyed the diversity and different space distribution. The house was not enormous, but it was more than enough. He was alone, after all.

Sting insisted that they saw everything in the house. It was quite late when Rufus finished showing his client the house and telling him everything he wanted to know. Moreover, since they all became quite hungry, Lucy took them to a small French restaurant near. The men, not overly particular in the selection of hers, immediately agreed to go there. While they were eating, leading a simple conversation, Sting was musing both about the house, which should be a priority to him now, and about the drama of Lucy, about which he had learned that day.

In his thoughtfulness, he had not noticed that Lucy was catching serious, wistful glances of him. In fact, she was aware of that her conversation with Rufus was not secret and that the other man had heard every word. She was also wondering whether he was thinking about that, considering that _she _had spent a few days with Sting, that woman, and their situation in mind. The singer sighed softly. She was not sure anymore is she had done right. The truth was, she had thought that letting him overhear her own problems in general would be fair towards him.

On the other hand, she had encumbered him with yet another burden — or so she believed, again basing it upon her own experience. Furthermore, the man had no idea that she had found out about his life more than he thought. Was it really fair? Or was it completely egoistic of her?

At last, when the food was almost finished and conversation returned to the real estate, Eucliffe took the plunge and told Rufus that he had almost decided to buy the house.

"I know I should wait, think it over, plus seek for some other offers myself, yet, I'm truly too tired to do that at all." Sting reasoned. "It may seem illogical of me, but since you got the best references among my friends and I also looked you up in the Internet, Mr. Lohr."

"Call me Rufus." He insisted.

"Fine... Rufus. And I trust your judgments."

"Ah, excellent! You are the one to make quick decisions, are you not?" The agent declaimed, grinning. "And I must say I think you are making the right choice."

"So, could we get back to your agency and start all the legalities? I really would like to gain a place to live soon and I bet that it would take a while, still more than a month or two before I could move in... With all the paperwork and negotiations with the owners, plus they surely will take much time before we finally meet..."

"No, indeed." Rufus shook his head with grace. "If we do it all now, then you could meet the owners the day after tomorrow, I dare to say."

"What? That fast?" Sting gasped.

"Yes. See, I know them well and I know they desire to sell the house as soon as possible. It's only natural when you consider their situation... Life has come hard on them."

"I see." Sting mused. "Are they hard to reach an agreement with?"

"Not at all." Rufus smiled. "And after that, there will be an escrow..."

"What is that?" Asked abruptly Lucy, leading her eyes between the men.

"It's a short period when the seller must take the house off market and I have time to rethink the purchase." The short-haired male explained, stunning the agent.

"You are absolutely right! I am glad you know that much about it."

"Well, Orga's been complaining on some of those issues once or twice..."

"And then I would recommend you get a home inspection. Just to be sure it is safe and, in fact, flawless." Rufus added. "I will hire a friend of mine, he is honestly very good."

"And then, finally, if everything's right, Sting buys the house?" Wondered Lucy again, looking at her friend.

"Yes, indeed. It is called a closure."

"Wow." She sighed. "I had no idea the process is so long..."

"Haven't you bought your house?" Eucliffe raised a brow at her.

"N-not really." Lucy bit her lip. "It was given to me... Or, if you prefer it that way, bought for me."

He nodded, processing the information. Suddenly, Rufus clapped his hands and smiled widely. "My dear friends, I insist we hurry up. We need to get back to the agency and start the process. Plus I have a few other questions to Sting."

"You know, guys..." The woman began, searching through her bag. "I think I will head back to my house since I'm almost there."

"Already?" Lohr widened his eyes. "But it's so early!"

"And maybe I'll get back home at some normal time." She explained. "If you need me, you know where I am."

Sting nodded, understanding her. She sacrificed her whole day for his sake. Well, yes. There was no point in denying. Thus, seeing that he had no problem with that, Rufus agreed on that, too.

"But we must meet up. Not because of business or anything."

"Sure." Lucy tried to smile and stood up.

"Then, see you later, Lucy." Lohr waved his hand at her.

Sting hesitated, then joined her up. She turned to him with question in her eyes.

"I... Thank you so much, Lucy." He said gently. "I have no idea how to repay you—"

"You don't have to." Heartfilia replied. "I was glad to do something."

"Why would you do it for me, then?"

Lucy scrutinized him and, for a moment, he could have sworn she had a ghost smile on her lips. "I don't know. I simply did."

With that, Lucy stepped ahead and went out of the restaurant, leaving the men on their own. Sting gapped after her, just to shake his head and return to the table, where Rufus was waiting, watching him with a small smile.

"She is a really golden person." He commented.

"Probably." Sting answered neutrally. "Anyway, Rufus. Thank you so much, too. After all, you've spent almost the whole day with me."

"No problem at all! I really enjoyed it, furthermore, got to know you." Lohr nodded and, under a questioning gaze of the other man, explained. "Orga used to talk about you. Much. He really regards you and values you as a friend."

Eucliffe grimaced, remembering how badly he had treated his dear friend last time they had talked... "I do regard him, too, although lately I've not been the best buddy..."

"I'm only your new agent, yet, do allow me to tell you this." Rufus stated. "Everyone has some problems. And worse days. Friends are here for us to understand, forgive, and help. Do not be afraid to ask them about it."

He transferred his blue eyes on the agent, musing. Finally, he spoke up. "No, I don't mind. Thank you, actually. I will call him up tonight."

"Great! Let's go back, then." The man with the braid bobbed his head and raised on his feet, getting to the exit. "Tell me, Sting. Are you living at the hotel now?"

"Yeah. Why?"

The men went out into the coldness and covered themselves more in the coats.

"Because it's pointless. They'll soak you. Say, why don't you live at someone's place for this one month more?"

"One month is much time." He muttered. They were going on foot to the agency. "I couldn't possibly... Ah, but I have no friends here. I mean, I've come here alone, the acquaintances I've made at the bar and with you are just acquaintances."

"Sting. No one's alone." Lohr stared at him.

"Sometimes I really doubt that."

"No one." Rufus said with power. "Listen, why don't you live in a flat of mine? I have a flat that I've put on selling. Just until you can move in the house, I can let you live there."

"But you barely know me..."

"So? You're in need. And I like you. Plus your friends are mine." The agent grinned and friendly tapped his shoulder.

Sting was speechless; he was gapping at the man in shock. "You're kidding."

"But no!"

"F-fine... How much's the rent?"

"Come on." Rufus waved his hand again. "It's only one month."

"Still, I'd feel much better if I could add something from myself." Sting insisted.

He laughed. "Alright. Half of the rent, then?"

The blonde clenched his jaws, but after thinking it over, he nodded. "Okay. Deal."

"Great! How about that: tomorrow morning, I'll let Elfman, Lyon, and Gajeel know that we need their help and—"

"We don't." Sighed Eucliffe. "I have only one piece of luggage and a pack."

"Oh, my." Lohr eyed him with appreciation. "You really left everything behind."

Sting nodded in answer, not feeling strong enough to say it out loud himself.

* * *

In fact, everything went smoothly and Sting moved into the flat of Rufus Lohr a few hours later, when they had finished the pertractations and signing several primer papers. Later, they both went to the hotel to collect Sting's things — even though the man refused accepting Rufus's help — and, paying at the reception and bidding goodbye to the receptionist, travelled a bit farther.

The flat turned out to have a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a dining room, and was tidy. Eucliffe was more than grateful for the agent to locate him there, yet, Rufus refused to even drink tea, claiming that his girlfriend would rip his head off if he were any more late. Thus, the men exchanged phone numbers, handshakes, courtesy, and the owner of the place left.

Sting went straight to the bathroom and began filling the tub with hot water. He needed a long, refreshing bath.

Meanwhile, he pulled out his cell phone and quickly added Orga's and Lucy's number to it. He grimaced like he wanted to smile bitterly. Wow, now he had three numbers — three people with whom he actually had any contact.

The next thing he did was a phone call to Orga, who answered after a third signal.

"Orga Nanagear, who is it?"

"Orga? It's me, Sting." The man said, then added a little with bitterness. "Or should I say, a prissy bighead."

"Oh! Hi there." Orga replied somewhat dryly. "Yeah, sorry, but—"

"I deserved it." Eucliffe cut him off. "And that's why I'm calling, among other things. I'm so sorry for being a prick and taking it out on you. I should have known better than to be a dick and treat my best friend like that."

He was met with dead silence. Worried, he checked the call, but it seemed to be all right, so he waited. At last, the other man said hoarsely:

"I-it's fine, bud. But thanks for that."

And from there on, they led a normal, friendly conversation. Sting was happy to have him back and obediently recounted to his friend all the things he had decided with Rufus. Orga seemed to be pleased.

After the conversation with Nanagear, Sting sighed and found a number to Lucy Heartfilia. He should have called her, too. And so he did.

The woman took longer to pick it up, and when she did, there was silence. He frowned and asked hesitantly: "Um, Lucy?" Silence. Unexpectedly, Sting realized what could be the problem and sighed. "It's Sting."

"Sting? Oh!" She answered at once with relief. "I'm sorry for that, but I didn't know who it was and feared that it could be someone else... Have you changed your number?"

"Yeah, today in the morning." He admitted. "And forgot to tell you. Sorry."

"It's okay. Anyway, sup?"

"Ah, I just called to thank you once again." Sting replied. "You've an absolute heart of gold. You didn't have to, but you came and helped me. Although it got me confused, I appreciate it so much."

"No problem, really." Lucy said shyly.

"I was wondering..." He cleared his throat. "Would you like to go with me on a drink or something? Tomorrow, for example."

She fell silent for a moment, then stuttered. "A-a drink?"

"A thank you drink." Sting specified.

"Well. Okay, I guess there's no harm." Heartfilia stated and added. "Thanks. What time?"

"Maybe around evening? I'll call you up tomorrow to confirm the meeting, ok?"

"Sure. Um, goodnight, then, Sting."

He waited a moment before replying: "Night, Lucy."

Sting hung up and closed his eyes, thinking of how he was feeling. Why was he a little abashed? Was it because of the selfless attitude of her? Or the fact she had called him by his name for the first time since they had met? Or because he had a place to live, probably mostly thanks to her? Damn, did he own her already so much... Intimidation and confusion filled him as he remembered the line that had been stuck in his head ever since he had heard it at Rufus's, making him ponder over it longer. Yet, he seemed to fail to encounter any hidden meaning, for the first time completely clueless.

_And I'm on the floor_

_So intimidated by you_

* * *

**I have no words of apology to tell you. I haven't been here a while, have I? Hopefully, such a writer block won't repeat itself. And the next chapter's already in progress, so let's hope for the best :)**

**Thank you all so much for support: all the PMs, follows, reviews. You mean a world to me!**

**And all the best in 2015! :)**

**Feedback's always appreciated :) so if you have a moment, any advice, suggestion, sth doesn't fit in - go ahead and tell me!**


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